With The Drop Of A Fork
by CrimsonSnowflake
Summary: "Draco Malfoy's got the hots for you." She bluntly stated. Green eyes widened, his mouth dropped open and he nearly fell out of his seat in surprise. "You can't be serious!" It all began with a devious mind, a cocky Irishman and the drop of a fork. Slash! DISCONTINUED
1. Drop It

**Title: **With The Drop Of A Fork**  
**

**Author: **CrimsonSnowflake**  
**

**Warning:** There is Slash in this story, for those of you who don't like it I suggest for you to leave.

**Disclaimer:**Harry Potter belongs to J.K Rowling, all the copyrights associated with Harry Potter belongs to her. Only the ideas contained within this story is the property of the author. No profit is being made by the writer of this story.

**A/N: **Okay, so this is an idea that I came up with that I just had to get out of my head, having it in my head disturbed the progress I have with my other story and as such I figured it would be best to just get it over and done with and write it down. Anyway, because Fighting Another War is my out-most priority when it comes to my stories the updates will probably be slow, I hope you all can deal with that and be patient with me. I hope you enjoy and please leave a review to tell me how you find the beginning! :D

* * *

"Trouble is part of your life, and if you don't share it, you don't give the person who loves you enough chance to love you enough." - Dinah Shore

* * *

**Chapter 1:**

**Drop It  
**

It was a beautiful morning. The sun was out, shining like no other on the cloudless sky. Birds were flying about, singing in the same cheerful manner they did every morning. His pillow was as fluffy as ever, he concluded while nuzzling his face further into the soft fabric. Inhaling the scent of newly washed sheets. Warmth surrounded him on every edges as he lay cocooned in his own blanket, the cloth securely twisted around him in a way that made it quite clear that at some duration of the night he'd been tossing and turning. There was a peaceful air surrounding him and not even Ron's outrageously loud snores could shake him out of it.

The sound of someone shuffling around caught his attention. One green eye, still heavy with sleep, slowly opened. Almost lazily Harry took in his familiar surroundings, the five thick crimson rugs on the floor, the bed to his right containing his best friend and the cold stone walls littered with various posters, one rather prominent with a moving picture of the Chudley Cannons. Once again a noise rose in the air, this one a very imaginative, though muffled, curse.

His other eye, copying the movements previously made by its twin, opened. A quiet sigh escaped the confines of his mouth, acting as a testimony of his reluctance to completely leave the world of dreams. Untangling himself from the sheets he rolled over onto his back before pushing himself up to rest in his elbows. The white quilt pooling around his waist and leaving his chest bare, causing his nipples to tighten as the cold air washed over him. He erupted out into a large yawn.

"Morning Harry." Dean's deep voice greeted him as the dark skinned boy, leaning on the floor and reaching under the bed, grunted in satisfaction. A triumphant smile stretched across his face as he drew out his hand, his prize tightly clutched in it. The young man had managed to retrieve one out of two socks.

"Good morning." Harry returned, running a hand through his already tousled hair. "What time is it?"

Instead of replying Dean drew his wand, lazily waving it and muttering a quiet incantation, causing red numbers to appear in the air, before resuming the hunt of his second sock. 7:30 AM the numbers said. Only 30 minutes until breakfast began then, he thought. With that in mind he rose from bed, the quilt dropping down to the mattress in a fluttering caress. Clad in pyjama bottoms and a too large t-shirt, _graciously_ provided to him by the Dursley's, that hung off his right shoulder he made his way to the bathroom.

Closing the door behind him he grabbed a hold of a fluffy white towel, hanging it on the towel rack before stripping and heading straight for the shower. Green eyes closed in relish as warm water cascaded down his body, wetting his hair and effectively soaking him from top to toe. After just standing there for a few minutes, allowing the warm water to soothe his muscles he reached for the soap, grabbed a sponge and lathered it up. With slow movements he washed his body, running the sponge across his arms, down his stomach to his feet. Dropping the sponge he rinsed off before reaching out to grab his shampoo. With a quiet click the top opened, giving way to the spicy scent of lavender. Ignoring the girly scent, as Ron would have put it, of his shampoo he squeezed some of it out into his hand before reaching up to rub it into his hair and scalp. When finished he immediately ducked his head under the spray of water, staying there until he was sure any trace of the shampoo was gone.

With a twist of his wrist he turned the knob, successfully stopping the stream of water. Dripping with the rapidly cooling liquid he snatched the towel from the rack before quickly drying himself and wrapping it around his waist. Secure in the knowledge that he was relatively dry he moved out of the bathroom and back into his room.

The situation in the dorm was unchanged. Dean was still searching the room for his missing sock, Seamus and Neville was still hidden from view by the curtains drawn closed around their bed and Ron was still snoring so loud that he could have awakened the dead. With quiet steps he moved towards his own bed, making sure the towel was secured before bowing down and opening his suitcase. At a speed and with such carelessness, which would have horrified the female population of the Gryffindor house, he threw on the school uniform, not caring that his shirt wasn't properly tucked in and that his tie was slightly crooked.

"I'll be going down from breakfast," He said, one hand on the doorknob, ready to turn it and head out into the common room. "Do me a favour and wake Ron before breakfast is done, will you?"

"Sure, sure." Dean absently replied as he bent down to search under Seamus' bed.

Without further ado, Harry twisted the doorknob, made his way down through the common room, down the many moving staircases until he finally reached the large wooden doors of the Great Hall. With flat hands he pushed the doors open wincing at the loud creaking sound they created. Green eyes scanned the room as he took a step inside. The Hall was nearly empty, save for a couple of Ravenclaws and Gryffindor's very own Hermione Granger. The bushy haired girl could barely be seen over the edge of the large book she was reading. Long, slender fingers grabbed a hold of a page ever so often in order to turn it and reveal the many words on the next one.

Easily, he made his way towards the Gryffindor table, a fond smile spreading across his face as his friend hastily sipped at her tea, almost as if she barely had time for the drink. The distinctive scent of earl grey filled his nostrils.

"You're up early." The witch commented as he took a seat right across from her.

"Yeah." He simply agreed, grabbing a toast and buttering it up before taking a bite.

Nothing more was said and they both settled for eating in silence. Just as he did every morning Harry poured himself a glass of Pumpkin juice, preferring cold rather than warm beverage in the morning. And, as usual, a tray of egg and bacon appeared before him as soon as he'd finished with his toast. It was all perfectly timed and he couldn't help but to be in awe of the house elves' skill and preciseness.

By the time he had served himself to the food, several people, mostly Ravenclaws and Slytherins, had joined them in the Hall and the buzzing of voices immediately increased. With an aggravated huff Hermione gently closed her book, wistfully caressing its cover before stacking it away in her book bag. The silence she so coveted when reading her precious books was all but gone, having been chased away the moment the students began filing in the door. She was forced to retreat from the world of literature and join reality once again. So, due to the loss of her reading material she took the first step and broke the silence between them.

"Did you have a good nights sleep? You didn't have any nightmares, did you?"

"I slept fine, better than I have in ages." He replied before skewering a piece of bacon with his fork and guiding it to his mouth.

"Good, I hope—" She suddenly stopped speaking, looking over his right shoulder at something behind him. A glint of intrigue and wonder appeared in her honey brown eyes as she brought her thumb up to her mouth in order to nibble at the nail as she so often did when considering something. It had been occurring more often ever since the welcoming feast and Harry turned inquiring green eyes upon her.

"Something the matter?" He questioned.

"He's doing it again." Hermione whispered, words probably not meant for him to hear if the way she was ignoring him was an indicator.

"Who's doing what?"

"What? Oh, nothing," She hastily said, brown eyes darting back to face his as if she had been forced out of some sort of trance. "Nothing at all."

One dark eyebrow raised in disbelief but he chose, to the relief of his friend, to let the subject pass and resumed devouring his breakfast. He ignored the sudden urge to turn around and find whatever it was that Hermione was so consumed in observing. Knowing the young witch he didn't want to know what it was.

"Morning Harry, Hermione." Came from his right as Ron, with sleep laden eyes, sat down without any grace whatsoever. The bench creaked and complained at the red head's weight.

"Morning Ron," Harry replied, both for himself and the girl sitting in front of them, she was too busy observing, it seemed.

Nothing more was said as his friend immediately began stuffing his face with food. The usual display of a complete lack of table manners did nothing to upset Harry, it happened every morning and had become routine. He was so used to it that he had a rather dispassionate response to it, the disgust he had reacted with in first place was as good as gone.

"Ron," Hermione snapped, still not moving her eyes to look at them but aware of their actions nonetheless. "Eat with your mouth closed, it's disgusting having to watch as you massacre your food."

Too sleepy to react in his usual manner Ron merely obeyed and closed his mouth while chewing.

The volume in the Great Hall drastically increased as a large group of Gryffindors followed by a couple of timid Hufflepuffs entered. The group, led by Dean, Seamus and Neville immediately steered their way, each taking a seat by the table before serving themselves to the food and digging in.

"Harry," Hermione suddenly called, drawing his attention away from the fascinating show Ron and Seamus made as the competed in shovelling food into their mouth. "Could you do me a favour?"

"What?"

"Drop your fork on the floor and bow down to get it." A mischievous glint appeared in the girl's eyes.

"Why?" Harry incredulously asked, looking at his friend as if he had never seen her before.

"Because, I need to check something. Now, go on, drop it." The way in which she said it forced a shiver out of him. Those words could be taken in an extremely wrong and disturbing way.

With a sigh he pretended to drop his fork on accident, rising from his seat and bending forward in order to retrieve it. A flush spread across his cheeks as Seamus, having swallowed the food in his mouth, released a teasing whistle.

"Shut up," He complained, his voice nearly a whine.

The Irishman sent him a cocky grin in return, abandoning his food and rising from his seat in favour of moving closer to Harry. One arm swung out and wrapped around his shoulders, drawing him into the other as Seamus leaned down to whisper in his ear. "I know a good way of shutting me up, all it takes is you, me and an empty classroom." As if to make it even more obvious what he was talking about, Seamus lightly ran his tongue over the shell of his ear and blew a stream of warm breath at the saliva he'd left behind.

A loud squeak erupted from Harry as he immediately tore away from the other, running to the other side of the table and standing behind Hermione as if to use her as a shield.

"Honestly, Seamus." Hermione chided, sending the Irishman a disapproving look. "Stop teasing him."

"Now now, Hermione." Seamus shot back, lazily grinning at the girl as he watched Harry with the eyes of a predator. "Harry's a grown man, I'm sure he's capable of telling me himself if he doesn't like it."

"You know as well as I do, Seamus Finnigan, that even if Harry was to tell you such a thing you still wouldn't give up." As she said this, the muggleborn gently coaxed Harry into taking a seat beside her, glaring at the taller Gryffindor in a clear warning. "Now why don't you sit down and leave poor Harry alone, hmm?"

Had it not been for the fact that he truly didn't know how to handle the Irishman Harry would have been rather embarrassed due to the fact that Hermione had to stand up for him where he himself couldn't. But as it was, he was way too relieved at having escaped Seamus' ministrations to particularly care. Keeping a suspicious gaze on his molester Harry leaned over in order to whisper into Hermione's ear. "What was the whole bending down scene about anyway?"

"You just proved a theory of mine, that's all." Hermione answered, not relinquishing any information as she slyly looked at him out of the corner of her eye.

"And what theory might that be?"

"Draco Malfoy's got the hots for you." She bluntly stated.

Green eyes widened, his mouth dropped open and he nearly fell out of his seat in surprise. "You can't be serious!"

* * *

As it turned out, Hermione had been very serious. And in her seriousness she had ruined him. He didn't know what to think any more. Every time he was in the same room as the Slytherin he caught himself looking at him, searching for some sort of sign that Hermione had been right. More often than not he ended up empty handed. Nothing about the blond indicated that he harboured some sort of attraction for Harry. Not the way he spoke, nor the way he moved and hardly the way in which he gazed at him. Aggression was the main element in Malfoy's grey eyes each time they crossed paths with his own. There was no indication whatsoever of Malfoy, in Hermione's well spoken words, having the hots for him.

A sigh, the fourth one since the class had begun, escaped the confines of his mouth. He shuffled forward in his seat, placing his elbows on the desk before him as he rested his face in the palm of his hands. He was probably giving it too much thought than it was worth. The very idea of Malfoy being attracted to him in any way was absolutely preposterous and the fact that he was thinking about it was even more ridiculous. It seemed that Hermione had planted a seed, one he was unable to destroy.

"Am I boring you, Mr. Potter?" Snape's menacing voice drawled as the man loomed over him in a threatening manner. "Or is it just that my lessons are too advanced for your mediocre brain to grasp? I rather think that after seven years I would have been able to drill at least a sliver of knowledge into that thick skull of yours."

"Of course not, Professor," Harry answered, gritting his teeth in order to stop the string of insults begging to be released from his mouth as he straightened up. "I'm all ears."

"Really?" The man sneered, looking down his large, hooked nose at him. "Then tell me, when making a wit-sharpening potion, which would do wonders for you I'm sure, is the ginger root to be sliced, cut or ground?"

"Sliced, sir?" He guessed, wincing at the triumphant smirk that immediately spread across Snape's face at his answer.

"I believe we should all be thankful that we aren't brewing that particular potion now, shouldn't we? I don't think any of us could handle Potter at a stupider level than he already is at. Slicing the ginger root will reverse the potion's effect, you silly boy. It is to be cut." With a graceful movement Snape turned away from him to walk back up to the blackboard, his robes billowing behind him in a manner entirely Snape. And, just for good measure, he tossed over his shoulder. "Five points from Gryffindor for incompetence."

A furious hiss from his right alerted him of Ron's displeasure, and when he turned to look at the redhead the glare directed at the professor's back only served to strengthen the image of that vexation. "Bastard." Harry heard him whisper and he had to cover his mouth in order to keep the small smile lingering there from showing.

"Now that I have _all_ of your attention," He pointedly glared at Harry as he said this. "You can all turn to page 172. We are not brewing anything today as I am not in the mood to deal with your blundering attempts at producing a simple potion that even a five year-old could manage. I expect notes to be taken as this will be important for the next lesson."

Behind him he could hear Hermione reading her notebook and her quill. And so, in a boring monotone voice, Snape began talking about fluxweed and its many uses in the makings of potions. When the professor finally let them go, he did so with a final sneer directed at Harry before moving towards a door in the far right corner, most likely his private rooms. A yawn grabbed a hold of him as Harry rose from his seat. His body was taut with muscles as he reached up into the air with his arms, stretching his body with a content groan. Something, or rather someone, solid bumped into him, disturbing his balance and forcing him to grab a hold of them in order to keep from falling to the floor.

Green eyes connected with swirling grey and a deep voice tinged with annoyance said, "Watch where you're going Potter."

"Me?" He questioned, hastily moving away from the taller male, praying to god that the blush he was fighting so fiercely didn't show on his face. "_You _are the one who bumped into _me_, Malfoy."

A sneer, one Harry had gotten so used to over the years that it was unusual not to see it on the blond's face, was sent his way. Without another word the Slytherin simply brushed past him, deliberately bumping into him with his shoulder while ignoring him as if Harry wasn't worth his time. Going against all his usual reactions Harry allowed the other to pass him, holding back the urge to run after him and force Malfoy to insult him. However strange it seemed it unnerved him that the blond had strayed away from their usual banter of snide comments and hurtful insults.

"It's quite unusual, isn't it?" Hermione said as she came up behind him, Ron joining them a mere second later.

"What is?" The redhead questioned as he followed the girl's gaze to Harry.

"Malfoy walking away from the opportunity to start a fight with Harry." There was a triumphant glint in her eyes as she explained this, as if she had won some kind of award.

"It is." Harry absent-mindedly confirmed, still looking in the direction in which the Slytherin had disappeared. His green eyes were glazed over in thought.

"Although," The clever witch slyly added. "It has been happening a lot more lately, hasn't it?"

"It has."

A small smile stretched across Hermione's face as she moved forward, grabbed a hold of his arm and gently guided him into a slow walk. "I wonder why that is..."

The way in which she said those words spoke quite clearly of how Hermione didn't wonder about it at all. She knew exactly why, or at least she thought she did. And it couldn't have been more obvious to Harry that she did if she had shouted it for all in Hogwarts to hear her.

"Oh I'm sure you do." Harry replied, sending a tame glare in her direction as they walked through the many corridors in Hogwarts.

"Is there something I'm missing here?" Ron inquired, his blue eyes narrowed in a suspicious manner as he looked at the two.

"No," He said, tightening the grip he had on his book bag as he slung it over his shoulder. "Hermione's just trying to prove a point that shouldn't be proved."

"Ah, but wouldn't it be fun if my point is right? All your Seamus problems would be solved as well." A teasing smirk lit up her face.

He stiffened, extracting his arm from Hermione's grip as he turned to sternly look at the other. "Let's talk about this another time, shall we? Sometime when we're not in a crowded hallway."

"Fine, tonight then." She said before parting ways with them, heading for her arithmancy class whereas Harry and Ron was stuck with divination.

"Care to tell me what that was all about?" Ron asked as they turned right, moving up the stairs towards the divination tower.

"Apparently," Harry whispered, moving closer to his friend in order to keep any eavesdroppers from hearing his words. "Malfoy is attracted to me."

"Really?" The red head chuckled, slinging one arm over Harry's shoulders in a companionable way. "How did she come up with that one?"

"She had me drop my fork and bend over, it seems that that was all it took." He dryly answered.

* * *

**To Be Continued**


	2. Ignorance Is Bliss

**Title: **With The Drop Of A Fork**  
**

**Author: **CrimsonSnowflake**  
**

**Warning:** This story contains Slash(boyxboy) for those of you who can't handle that I recommend checking out some other story.

**Disclaimer: **Harry Potter belongs to J.K Rowling, all the copyrights associated with Harry Potter belongs to her. Only the ideas contained within this story is the property of the author. No profit is being made by the writer of this story.

**A/N: **Okay, so this chapter is a little bit shorter than the first one, but I found it to be a very nice place to end it where I did. It gives you that cliffhanger effect that I love using in my stories :P Anyway, I'm actually rather glad I decided to begin writing this story. It allows me to experiment and decide on new things, I can't actually do that with FAW because the direction of that story is already decided, with this one it's all a blank canvas waiting for me to begin with the first brushes of paint! :D I hope you all enjoy reading this new chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it. 3

* * *

_"The most beautiful thing we can experience is the mysterious. It is the source of all true art and all science. He to whom this emotion is a stranger, who can no longer pause to wonder and stand rapt in awe, is as good as dead: his eyes are closed." _- Albert Einstein, 1879 - 1955

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**Chapter 2:**

**Ignorance Is Bliss  
**

Harry had never considered himself to be much of a genius. He was perfectly aware that his brain was nothing more than ordinary. The young, green eyed wizard was also quite content with this knowledge. The urge to prove himself on a more academical level had never occurred to him, had never tempted him, nor had it been expected of him. He wasn't stupid, but he didn't have the same thirst for knowledge as Hermione did either. Yet despite all this even he could acknowledge that his bushy haired friend's sudden obsession with the dynamics of his relationship, more like rivalry, with Malfoy promised nothing but trouble for him.

Nothing good could come out of her observations, her knowing looks. And the fact that she actually thought it could, spelled out even more problems than he had ever imagined coming from her. He knew that Hermione was relentless when in the pursuit of something, he had witnessed it several times. Though more often than not that determinedness was levelled at Ron and not him.

A shiver travelled through him, trailing up and down his spine as he burrowed his face in the book before him. Experience told Harry that looking her in the eye was the gravest mistake he could ever make. Like a vulture she would latch onto him with her deadly claws, forcing him to go along with the scheme her clever brain had managed to come up with. No, eye-contact was the most moronic thing, besides ignoring the problem, he could do in such a situation. Ron, however, was not privy to this crucial information, it seemed. Which probably was the reason why he was sitting in his chair, face planted on the table while unconcernedly snoring away. The red head was quite content with being oblivious to the danger Harry was in. It was amazing, really, how much his friend could sleep through.

"I won't do it." Harry stated, his fingers grabbing a smooth, thin page before gently turning it.

"Why not?" His friend whispered in a harsh voice.

"What's the point? There's no particular reason for me to do it, now is there?"

"Of course there is," Hermione replied, eyes darting back and forth, on the outlook for Madam Pince. "You won't have to deal with Seamus' constant attentions any-more if you just go along with my plan."

"No, I would have to deal with Malfoy's attentions instead. Between those two evils I'll choose the lesser one. I'd rather deal with Seamus than Malfoy any day." He put the book down, making sure to mark the page he had been reading. "I won't get together with Malfoy just because you have some weird fantasy you'd like to have fulfilled. Besides, I'm perfectly fine as I am, Seamus' flirtations doesn't bother me."

"Says the man who's been hiding and running in the opposite direction every time Seamus enters a room," The witch wryly replied, "Admit it, Harry, you're bothered by it. It's understandable."

"Okay, fine. Maybe I don't like being accosted and hit on every time I meet him. Maybe I am bothered by the fact that one of my house mates, one of the people I share a room with quite obviously likes me in a way that's anything but innocent. But even if I am bothered by it, that does not mean I should go and find myself a possessive pureblood to chase him off!" He was shouting by the end of it. Frustrated by Hermione's persistence he was reaching the end of the long rope that acted as his patience. Why she couldn't well enough leave it alone was a mystery to him, a mind boggling mystery. Her stubbornness was nothing new to him, but the last time he checked she was just as against Malfoy as he himself was. There was no reason for her to suddenly have a miraculous change of heart that effectively led her to this absolutely improbable idea.

"I," She whispered in a meek voice, "just thought it would be nice for you to have someone. I mean, I have Ron and he has me. Sometimes it just seems as if we leave you to yourself too much."

He immediately softened. The angry furrow between his eyebrows smoothed out as he released a sigh. It seemed as if any anger and annoyance he might have felt had been washed straight out of him. She might have gone about it in a wrong and extremely awkward way, but he now realized that Hermione had only been worried. His friend had never been particularly good at expressing any feelings other than frustration and irritation. This was only a reminder of that.

"I don't mind you and Ron leaving me alone," Harry stated, "It gives me time to relax. Besides if I want to pursue a relationship don't you think I should do it by and for myself? It wouldn't be right to do it just because I want to escape Seamus."

"I suppose," she grudgingly admitted, still not all that willing to relinquish the idea of him and Malfoy together. "But I still think it would be nice for you to find someone as well. I can't stand seeing you unhappy and that's exactly what you look like on your own."

"Touching, isn't it?" A snide voice suddenly cut through the air, making Harry turn his head around so fast that it was a wonder his neck hadn't snapped. There, in all his glory, stood the very person Harry didn't want to see. The distinguished nose, the angles that spoke of an aristocratic descent and the blond hair that was slicked back with, in Harry's opinion, too much hair gel. Draco Malfoy was as attention grabbing as ever and he still didn't fail to bring forth the flavour of distaste on the tip of his tongue.

As if having smelled something foul Harry wrinkled his nose, taking in the other with a mere sweep up his body before turning his back on him, effectively dismissing him as something unworthy of his attentions. He didn't particularly feel like dealing with the Slytherin prince this day. Having had his thoughts focused on the blond for the better part of two days was more than enough. As of now he was determined to keep Malfoy out of his mind, and if he was to manage that then having him show up just wouldn't do. And as such, he would have to stop paying him attention, stop reacting to his taunts.

"What's this? Turning your back on me Potter? Become a coward, have you?" The blond continued to spit insults at him, revelling in the mindless laughter uttered by his pack of friends, yet becoming more and more infuriated by Harry's constant lack of response.

In an agitated manner he began gnawing at his lip, abusing it until the soft appendage became swollen and red before relenting and releasing it. Dispassionately he turned to look at the blond, taking in the way those grey eyes widened in anticipation at the small movement before turning to Hermione as if having just proven his point. He ignored the way she rolled her eyes in return and instead focused on packing away his books, parchment and quills. Gracefully, he slung his book-bag over his shoulder, shook Ron by his shoulder in order to wake him and left the library without a word. The thought of leaving Hermione alone with a half-asleep Ron and a gang of Slytherins being dangerous never occurred to him. The clever witch that was his friend was more than capable of handling herself_ and _Ron. She would have no troubles.

Green eyes abruptly widened as two hands, one wrapping around his waist, the other around his mouth, took a hold of him. The sound of feet shifting filled the hall as he was dragged back into a shadowy alcove and harshly shoved up against the wall. Angry grey eyes stared at him in a penetrating manner as the grip the other had on him tightened to an almost painful degree.

"Who do you think you are, Potter?" Malfoy spat, forcing Harry's body even further up against the wall with his own, larger frame. "Walking away and ignoring me as if I'm nothing!"

The Slytherin's hot breath caressed his chin while the barely there scent of peppermint wafted up into his nostrils. Freezing on the spot he stared straight into Malfoy's eyes. The unexpectedness of the assault and the surprising emotion of hurt that glinted in the other's eyes was enough to halt any struggle he might have unleashed. He didn't know why, he had always been satisfied when one of his insults had hit the mark during their many encounters, but he now found himself to be truly unnerved by the sight of that unusual wounded look. It wasn't like Malfoy to show his emotions in public, especially not in Harry's presence. The whole situation was rather extraordinary and he didn't quite know how to react to it.

"Who do you think you are to leave me hanging?" The blond heatedly whispered in his ears.

His heart sped up as the Malfoy heir bowed his head in order to rest his forehead on Harry's. As if mulling over something he stared straight into the raven head's eyes. Something was wrong with the picture they made out. The position they were in, him pressed up against a wall, Malfoy gazing into his eyes. It almost seemed as if they were lovers rather than bitter rivals. A soft red colour flushed across his cheeks at the thought. If anyone were to walk by them, he had no doubts that Hogwarts' rumour mill would be filled with gossip of their unexpected, passionate affair. He was certain that they wouldn't care to hear if it was true or not. So long as they got their daily doses of gossip they were as happy as a clam. Harry closed his eyes.

Suddenly, as if never having been there, Malfoy's warmth disappeared. The hands that had felt surprisingly warm, was nowhere on his person. The smell of peppermint disappeared. And the feel of the blond's intense stare was gone. Torn between how nice it had felt to be held by someone and the fact that that someone had been Draco Malfoy, Slytherin extraordinaire, he opened his eyes.

Nothing. There was no sign, except for the flush across Harry's cheeks and his ruffled clothing, to signify that the other had ever been there. Not a sound, nor scent could be detected. He hadn't entirely left him though. The image of his grey eyes coming closer and closer was as good as engraved in his mind, appearing over and over again as he opened and closed his eyes.

He had been right, he decided. A relationship with Malfoy was and would never be a wise decision.

* * *

He was rather happy that he had decided not to tell Ron or Hermione about the little incident with Malfoy. It wasn't necessary for them to know. And he was sure that if he had told them they would have given him no peace. Or at least Hermione wouldn't. Ron would probably start going off about taking the Slytherin down a few notches before conveniently forgetting it when the distraction of food appeared before him. His friend was delightfully predictable.

Due to him keeping it a secret Harry had been walking around all week on edge. It almost felt as if Malfoy could jump out at any moment and repeat their previous meeting. He wasn't sure whether to be disappointed or glad that he didn't. It was all rather silly of him that he even considered being disappointed, but their unusual encounter had left its impression on him, confusing him to the point where up was down and right was left. Everything was a mess.

Even though he was chaos on the inside he still managed to get through his days with a semblance of control on the outside. No one noticed that something was different with him, not even his two best friends. Though that was most likely due to the fact that they were rather occupied with each other. Too occupied, in fact, to notice every little detail that happened in Harry's life. It was a new and welcome change. Giving him some space to breathe and just relax.

Of course, Seamus was as flirty as ever, coming onto him each time they met. The Irishman's methods had begun to change, however. He was becoming more forward in his advances, no longer keeping his infatuation for the boy who lived under the wraps. But displaying it with an openness that brought a flush to Harry's face each time they met. Which was a lot.

Another thing that had changed was the feel of someone constantly staring at him. Every day at both breakfast, lunch and dinner he could feel a pair of eyes fixed upon him, burning a hole through him with its intensity. Had he not known better he would have thought it to be Malfoy staring at him. But as it was he did know better and was perfectly aware that the likeliness of the Slytherin spending his meals observing him was as big as none.

No, it had to be someone else.

"Is something wrong, Harry?" Hermione questioned with narrowed eyes, gazing at him suspiciously.

"No, why would you think that?" He quickly answered, sending her a hesitant smile.

"Because, you're fidgeting." She calmly lifted a fork with a piece of chicken on it up to her mouth, gently closing her lips around it before withdrawing the cutlery in a show of impeccable table manners. A great contrast to the sight Ron made to her right, shovelling both chicken, beef and vegetables in his mouth all at the same time. It seemed that opposites really did attract.

"I am?" Harry asked and looked down, and indeed, there his knee was jumping up and down in an anxious manner, his fingers tapping against the hard wood of the dining table. He hadn't even noticed.

"Sorry," He said and immediately took control over his knee and yanked his hand away from the table. A nervous laugh trilled out across his lips as he rubbed at the back of his neck with his right hand. Perhaps he had underestimated Hermione's ability to keep an eye on more than one thing.

"There's nothing to be sorry about," she admonished, looking at him with a wondrous glint to her eye, "I was just wondering what's got you so restless."

"Nothing," He said, "Just eager to get out of here. It feels as if someone is staring at me."

A scoff came from their red headed friend as he struggled to swallow the half chewed food in his mouth before saying, "When aren't you being stared at? I would've thought you'd gotten used to it by now, mate."

"Oh hush Ron!" Hermione snapped at him, sending him her infamous glare before turning back to Harry with an elated look upon her face. "So you've finally noticed. I wondered how long it would take you."

"What do you mean? You already knew?"

"Of course I did!" She indignantly replied, scoffing as if he had just said something ludicrous. "As if I wouldn't notice something like that. I'm actually surprised it took you so long to discover it. I mean, one would have thought that you'd notice right away when someone like Malfoy is looking at you."

"Wha- Malfoy? Who said anything about it being Malfoy?"

"You mean you haven't figured it out yet? I've already told you, and you haven't figured it out?" Had it not been for the absolute weirdness of their conversation he supposed he would have found the widening of her eyes and the gaping mouth to be amusing. He didn't. This being because he had the matching wide eyes and gaping mouth to go with hers. "Draco Malfoy's got the hots for you. He wants to kiss you, to do the naughty with you, ravish you! That's why you've been feeling as if someone's staring at you. That's why he walks away from the opportunity to start a fight with you. Can't you understand that?"

The way she looked at him, as if he had disappointed her in some way, took him by surprise. He understood now. She still hadn't given up the idea of getting him into a relationship with the blond. She was still fixed upon the notion of him living happily ever after with someone. Or in other words, Hermione was harbouring a false hope of him surviving when the war was over. The bushy haired witch still hadn't accepted that he could very well die, and if he did survive he would most likely end up alone.

"Why do you keep bringing this up? I've already told you that it's not going to happen." He gazed at her with tired eyes, the emerald green dulling into a more earthy tone.

"Why not? Why can't you try?" She was becoming frustrated with him now. He could see it in the way her jaw tightened, her eyes narrowed and her chin pushed up and forward in a defiant stance.

"Because he's Malfoy." Ron quietly commented, shrinking when the fiery witch turned her glare on him and immediately turning away from them and back to his food when she moved to stare at Harry instead. He had been efficiently subdued.

"So what?" Hermione replied as if Harry had been the one to utter those words. It might as well have been, for he had been thinking the exact same thing while his red headed friend had been saying it. "What if it is Malfoy? Are you not capable of looking beyond houses? Beyond blood and heritage?"

"I am, I'm just not willing to look beyond the hours upon hours he has spent torturing you, us!" He spat back, not caring that he was drawing attention with his raised voice.

The bushy haired young woman slumped in her seat, bringing her right hand up to pinch the bridge of her nose between her thumb and index finger. "You're not seeing the whole picture here, Harry."

It hit him then, how strange she was acting. "You know something," He accused.

"Of course I do," She confirmed, a wry smile stretching the corners of her lips upwards. "Don't I always?"

"Tell me."

"This, I'm afraid, isn't my secret to tell. You'll have to discover it by yourself, if you want to know." There was a slyness to her voice, as if she had been expecting this all along, as if she had been counting on his curiosity. And Harry being Harry, couldn't find it in himself to deny his curious mind and immediately turned around to stare at the very source of their conversation. Green clashed with grey, and he found that Malfoy had, indeed, been staring at him.

As always, Hermione had been right. And in this case it pained Harry to admit it.

* * *

**To Be Continued**


	3. Hufflepuff  Evil Genius

**Title: **With The Drop Of A Fork**  
**

**Author: **CrimsonSnowflake**  
**

**Warning: **Slash ( boyxboy) **  
**

**Disclaimer: **Harry Potter belongs to J.K Rowling, all the copyrights associated with Harry Potter belongs to her. Only the ideas contained within this story is the property of the author. No profit is being made by the writer of this story.

* * *

_"Beauty of whatever kind, in its supreme development, invariably excites the sensitive soul to tears." - Edgar Allan Poe, 1809-1849_

_

* * *

_

**Chapter 3:**

**Hufflepuff = Evil Genius  
**

A white blanket gradually covered the planes surrounding Hogwarts school of Witchcraft and Wizardry as the snow dropped in a peaceful and quiet manner. Indeed, it was all happening so quietly that had it not been for the fact that he was sitting on the windowsill with a perfect view of the outside world, he wouldn't have noticed it at all. As it was though he was sitting in the most advantageous place to be sitting when wanting to admire the scenery and although it hadn't been on purpose he had concluded that he might as well enjoy it when he had the chance. So, without further ado, he had summoned a thick, red wool blanket, accompanied by a steaming cup of hot cocoa.

It was a Hogsmeade weekend and since he had decided not to go he had the entire Gryffindor common room to himself. The silence that surrounded him was a rare luxury as the common room was more often than not used solely as a social gathering point than a resting place. Silence was, however, not the only luxury he had received when making the wise decision of staying behind. There was no Hermione to bother him with her theories, no Seamus to molest him and no giggly fan girls to stare at him. Harry was on a vacation of sorts.

With relish he sipped at his cocoa, gazing out at the frost covered lake as the hot liquid trailed down his throat before ending up in his stomach. Green eyes zoned in on the students milling around down there, most of them having slept in and was now rushing down to Hogsmeade in order to make it before curfew was up. Others were finally, after hours of wandering around in the small village, returning. He was happy to note that none of them bore the Gryffindor colours. His sanctuary wouldn't be ruined just yet.

Absentmindedly he scratched at his bare leg; the wool in his blanket had begun irritating his skin. Still, he kept it secured tightly around him, folding his legs beneath himself as he leaned more firmly against the window. The glass felt cold against his warm flesh, and although Harry usually disliked anything cold he couldn't help but to enjoy the feeling. He was enjoying everything today, it seemed.

Once again he lifted his cup to rest against his lips, closing his eyes as he threw his head down, expecting the hot liquid to stream into his mouth. It didn't. The cup was disappointingly empty, not even a single drop of the heavenly cocoa lingered at the bottom. An unconscious pout wormed its way onto his face and, still gazing down into the empty cup as if that would somehow magically fill it up again, he rose from his seat. His blanket silently glided to the ground, pooling at his feet when he relinquished his comfortable seat. Ignoring the fabric on the floor he moved towards the exit way, only mumbling a quiet greeting to the Fat Lady as he headed straight down to the kitchens.

The hallways were cold, sending shivers racing through his body. The thought of retreating back into his warm nest up in Gryffindor tower didn't even hit him. Getting another cup of cocoa was at the forefront of his mind, pushing away anything else. Harry could easily admit that he was addicted to the warm drink, it was perfectly natural; where other people were dependant on coffee to keep them up in the mornings Harry's pick me up was the delightful chocolate drink he was now in the pursue of. The mere notion of the liquid running down his throat, his taste buds exploding with the deep flavour, made him lick his lips in anticipation.

It didn't take long, only a few minutes, before he reached the portrait hiding the kitchens. He bent down; his cup still tightly clutched in his left hand, and tickled the pear. A high pitched giggle immediately filled the air before the portrait suddenly swung inwards, revealing the kitchen steaming with life. House elves of all shapes and sizes bustled around, cooking food, cleaning and popping in and out of the room as they performed their duties. They seemed to freeze the moment they caught sight of him, their eyes widened before suddenly they all stormed towards him. Eagerness seemed to emit from their very beings as they excitedly waited for his order.

"Another cup of cocoa please," He said, his quiet voice carrying through the silent room as if he had shouted.

They immediately scattered to comply. Spotting a table with some chairs surrounding it standing in the corner of the room Harry moved towards them. He seated himself, patiently waiting for the house elves to finish with his request. The atmosphere of the room was rather soothing, and he found it hard to keep his eyes from dropping closed.

A relieved sigh escaped the confines of his mouth when suddenly a steaming cup of cocoa was placed before him. He sent a beaming smile towards the elf that had delivered it before he rose from his seat and stepped out of the kitchens with the intent of retreating back into his warm sanctuary. Had he not been so consumed in his drink and had he cared to actually look where he was going the disaster that was about to happen surely could have been avoided.

At the exact time Harry had begun wandering down to the kitchens a group of Hufflepuffs had awoken. As soon as they had realized exactly how much they had overslept, they jumped up from the warmth of their beds and threw on their clothes in a flurry of motions. It had taken them the exact same amount of time to gather all their things and sprint from the Hufflepuff common room as it had taken Harry to retrieve his cup of chocolate liquid. Perhaps if Harry had decided to linger a bit longer in the kitchens, or if the Hufflepuffs had woken up a minute or two later, everything might have been prevented. As it was though, the whole thing had happened on the minute and Harry was sent tumbling down the hard, stone stairs as one of the Hufflepuffs crashed right into him.

An ear piercing scream filled the air as Harry fell, his body thrown around like a ragged doll. Several whimpers, cries and other sounds of pain managed to squeeze their way past his tightly shut lips. They grew louder with every step he fell down; the closer he came to the bottom of the stairs the more anguish he was put through. The stone connected harshly with his skin, leaving behind its mark in the form of several bruises and, most likely, broken bones. His breath was ruthlessly knocked out of him when he landed straight on his back at the bottom of the stairs, his chest moved up and down in erratic motions in a desperate attempt to get some air back into his lungs.

He couldn't breathe, couldn't speak, couldn't do anything other than lay there and try to catch his breath. Vaguely aware of three pair of feet coming to a stop beside him he released a groan. There was no point in hiding his pain, and even if he had wanted to he couldn't possibly manage it, his body was aching in ways it never had before, not even after one of his encounters with Voldemort. A dry laughter escaped him, sending another bout of pain through his body, when he realized that three Hufflepuffs had succeeded where the Dark Lord never had. Who would have thought that all that was needed to best him was three naïve Hufflepuffs.

"Oh Merlin! We've killed Harry Potter!" A hysterical voice rang in the air, beating unkindly against his eardrums. "What do we do?"

"You take me to the infirmary you morons."Harry managed to wheeze out, fearing that if he didn't say anything they would go as far as to bury his body in order to hide the evidence of their guilt.

He nearly rolled his eyes at the loud squeal that came from one of them right after he had spoken. Honestly, he would have been better off if he'd been surrounded by a bunch of sneering Slytherins out to get him, at least they would have gotten something done.

A particularly loud groan filled the air as two of the three grabbed a hold of his arms and legs, jolting the broken limbs in a manner resulting in excruciating pain. This pain became even worse when they, in their skittishness, managed to drop said limbs.

"Fuck!" Harry screamed.

After some clumsy and rather painful attempts in Harry's opinion the three Hufflepuffs finally managed to figure out that the gentlest way of bringing him to the infirmary, which was beginning to sound like pure paradise to Harry, would be levitating him. Of course, that didn't necessarily mean that they got it on the first try. No, it took at least five times before they managed to levitate him together. And by that time Harry was so bruised that he wondered if he would ever get rid of the discolouration.

Severus Snape loved his job. Really, he did. True, the stupidity of the majority of his students accompanied by his lack of patience was a dangerous combination that more often than not left him rather grumpy at the end of each day. And yes, he revelled in the small amount of pleasure and accomplishment he got each time he managed to scare the shit out of the new batch of first years. Of course, this satisfaction always competed with the annoyance and irritation that welled up inside of him when one of the elder students, namely one Harry James Potter, defied him. In one way the scared first years and defiant Potter balanced each other out. Potter kept him on his toes, preventing his skills in daunting his students from rusting, while the first years proved to him the power his snarls, sneers, drawls, sarcastic wit and other such means had. And each time he actually managed to subdue Harry Potter one could always be sure that Severus would be in a good mood until the brat found another way to strike back at him.

He supposed that the boy had, in a way completely incomprehensible to _him_, managed to worm his way into, if not his heart at least the outer layer that surrounded the muscle. And contrary to popular belief Severus did not enjoy seeing the boy hurt in any way. In fact, the sight of the boy injured, even a slight cut, sent such a feeling of discontentment and concern through him that he had begun going out of his way to make sure that the brat remained unharmed. A rather daunting task considering all the trouble Potter managed to get himself into.

And so, it did not come as a surprise that his day was ruined when he came upon the sight of three anxious looking Hufflepuffs, looking ready to faint he noted, levitating a beaten looking Potter in the direction of the infirmary. His countenance darkened as a twinge of concern made his heart, usually a rather steady muscle, skip a beat. The dark robes adorning his broad frame billowed in the manner they were so infamously known for as he lengthened his strides, approaching the four students in a way most foreboding.

"And what is this?" He drawled, a slight hiss to his words as he scrutinized them, his eyes narrowed in an icy glare.

A frown stretched across his face as the three useless idiots began stuttering away about something or the other. The only thing he managed to catch amongst the worthless blabber was the words Potter, stairs and fall. It didn't take a genius to figure out what had happened and when he did he found his mood worsening to a dangerous level. So much so that he had to restrain himself from reaching for his wand and cursing the brainless baboons.

"Speak one more word and I'll have you scrubbing cauldrons until your fingers are raw with blisters." Severus snarled while turning to face Potter. "Now hand Mr. Potter over to me and leave before I begin docking points."

Severus was never one to overestimate people, in fact he more often than not underestimated them, but in this case he had severely miscalculated the amount of brains these Hufflepuffs seemed to possess. The minute the threat of point loss had been issued they cancelled their levitation spell, causing Potter to drop right to the floor with an anguished scream.

"50 points each from Hufflepuff!" He roared, taking a looming step closer. The three immediately scattered, leaving him to deal with the suffering figure lying on the floor.

Potter was a pitiful sight. Every inch of skin that was visible was covered in bruises and Severus was quite sure that any skin that wasn't visible would be the same. His arm, obviously broken, lay in an awkward manner down his side. The right side of his face was covered in blood from a rather large cut on his temple and Severus could see a small trail of blood making its way down his neck and under the collar of his shirt. The sight enraged him and he immediately cast his own levitation spell all the while muttering about the stupidity of Hufflepuffs.

"How on earth did you manage this then Mr. Potter? I would say that the likelihood of anyone being injured by the hand of a Hufflepuff is rather small and I am rather eager to hear what you did to invoke their wrath." Severus questioned, sending the boy an amused glance.

"Cocoa," Harry whispered, wincing at the hoarseness of his voice, "I was coming back from the kitchens where I'd just gotten some cocoa when they literally bumped into me and sent me flying."

"A sneak attack then." The professor concluded.

"Something like that yes." Harry allowed a small smile to spread across his face, closing his eyes for a moment before opening them again. It wasn't often that situations like this, where he and Snape managed to be in the same room and act civil towards each other, occurred. The absurdity of the situation was so great that Harry couldn't be bothered to dwell long on it, he suspected that no matter how long he mulled over it his mind would never grasp exactly what was going on.

Severus Snape was a mystery to all but himself, and it seemed as if it would stay that way no matter how many times Harry tried to figure him out. Perhaps that was for the best. Some people just weren't meant to be figured out after all.

* * *

_``You fear the world too much,'' she answered, gently. ``All your other hopes have merged into the hope of being beyond the chance of its sordid reproach. I have seen your nobler aspirations fall off one by one, until the master-passion, Gain, engrosses you. Have I not?'' _

_``What then?'' he retorted. ``Even if I have grown so much wiser, what then? I am not changed towards you.'' _

_She shook her head. _

_``Am I?'' _

_``Our contract is an old one. It was made when we were both poor and content to be so, until, in good season, we could improve our worldly fortune by our patient industry. You _**_are_**_ changed. When it was made, you were another man.''(1)_

Green eyes flitted back and forth taking in the words printed on white paper as he rested on the white clothed hospital bed. His pillow was thoroughly fluffed, the bed sheets soft against his skin and so consumed by the book resting in his hands he nearly forgot the fact that he was currently in the oh-so dreaded infirmary.

Slender fingers gently tapped at the book cover, running up an down its spine whenever he came across something that struck a particular fancy. A Christmas Carol was splayed in large golden letters on the book's front cover, making it glaringly obvious exactly which piece of fiction he was currently indulging himself in.

Harry did not consider himself to be a great reader, there was many a book which he had never touched, had never even thought of touching and it wasn't often that one could find him with his nose buried in the pages of a book as Hermione so frequently was. He did, however, enjoy a good read of fiction now and then. Especially at times such as these—when he was trapped in the cold, sterile rooms of the infirmary with no one to keep him company. The stories, although probably most likely to occur in the wizarding world, was just that: stories. And so he could sit down and witness as the characters were put through unimaginable trials with the knowledge that it was all the imagination of the author and nothing more.

The never-ending supply of books was an advantage of being friends with Hermione, who had connections within the library that were usually impossible to acquire, that he didn't utilize in a frequent manner. When he did take advantage of it, however, the stream of literature was so overwhelming that it was quite clear that Hermione very much enjoyed supplying it for him. An example of this delight was on the night-table to his right in the form of a stack of books. Classics such as _Dracula, Alice in Wonderland_ and _Pride and Prejudice—_yes Harry was a closet romantic— amongst them.

Had it not been for the constant stream of visitors, including the Hufflepuffs that had landed him in such a state, he would have consumed them all the moment they had been placed in his arms. He had been prevented, however, and it hadn't been before Madame Pomfrey had physically thrown all the visitors out that he had gotten the chance to begin. And so, there he sat, his wand the only thing providing him with light, curled up in a small ball on his side while his head rested on a soft pillow, registering nothing but the words printed black on white.

Every now and then his fingers would fumble with two pages plastered together, forcing him to bring his attention away from the proceedings within the book in order to gently separate them so he could get on with the story. It was a minor annoyance that he could easily deal with, in fact, that small pause served to heighten the anticipation he felt each time he turned a page.

The large clock hanging in the other end of the room chimed loudly, a total of three times, alerting him of the fact that it was way past his bedtime. Sighing he closed his book with a loud bang. Contradicting his carelessness in closing it he gently placed the book on top of the others, creating another layer on his tower of literature. Contentedly, he sunk under the warm covers, burrowing himself into his own, warm and private cocoon. He closed his eyes and evened out his breath with every intention of allowing sleep to take him over. His plans were, however, immediately postponed when the sound of frantic footsteps and harsh whispers cut through the air.

Curiosity awakened Harry drew his blanket up under his nose, closed his eyes and pretended to be asleep, all the while sharpening his senses in order to pick up what was said. The consuming urge to open his eyes and take a quick look when he heard the doors open was nearly too strong to resist. He managed, however, and his restraint was rewarded when he heard something heavy being placed in a bed not too far from his.

"Should we restrain him?" Madame Pomfrey's frazzled voice cautiously questioned, as if unsure of what to do. Something highly out of character Harry mused.

"No," a slightly hoarse voice that Harry, with some surprise, recognized to be Dumbledore's replied, "he's calm now and he will sleep throughout the night, there is no need for any exercise of force—it will only serve to make things worse."

"Are you sure Albus? After what happened?" Professor McGonagall joined the conversation.

"I am absolutely certain, Minerva. Now that we know the state of things, I'm sure we'll manage to keep it under control." The headmaster went on as if to say something more when he abruptly ceased the flow of words and took a few steps closer towards Harry. A sudden daze suddenly engulfed his mind as he felt a slender, wrinkly hand come to rest on his forehead. "We should all be allowed some sleep now, after all in dreams, we enter a world that's entirely our own—free of all the worries laid upon us in this one." (2)

Everything went black after that.

* * *

**A/N: **

(1) An extract from Charles Dickens' A Christmas Carol

(2) "In dreams, we enter a world that's entirely our own" Dumbledore in Prisoner of Azkaban

So, it took a little too long, in my opinion, for me to get this one done. Hopefully the length of is satisfying though. I'm actually very satisfied with the way I wrote this chapter, especially the Snape part, although not much happened. And I seriously believe that Hufflepuffs is the most dangerous of all the houses, believe me, under that loyal, sweet and innocent exterior lies an evil mind!

Anyway, I've decided that it's time I go on a fishing trip and fish for a beta for this story. Editing my own chapters is fine and dandy but I have this suspicion that there's many mistakes I don't catch and all. So if anyone is interested leave your strengths and weaknesses in a review or send me a PM, I'll be looking forward to see who wants to help me through this story! :D


	4. Hide & Seek

**Title: **With The Drop Of A Fork

**Author: **CrimsonSnowflake

**Warning: **Slash

**Disclaimer: **Harry Potter belongs to J.K Rowling, all the copyrights associated with Harry Potter belongs to her. Only the ideas contained within this story is the property of the author. No profit is being made by the writer of this story.

* * *

_"Conversation should be pleasant without scurrility, witty without affection, free without indecency, learned without conceitedness, novel without falsehood." _William Shakespeare 1564-1616

* * *

**Chapter 4:**

**Hide & Seek  
**

Harry had always possessed a healthy amount of curiosity, a childlike fascination with everything new. It had begun with those magazines he had once located when cleaning under Petunia and Vernon's bed. It wasn't until he was thirteen years old that he figured out why Vernon had turned so red and had immediately yanked the magazine away from him. He would have felt self-conscious too had someone found magazines with naked women under his bed. But that wasn't the point, the point was that Harry was curious by nature and said curiosity had now officially been enticed.

Puzzles and mysteries intrigued him. Giving him an unsolved riddle was the equivalent of throwing a dog a bone—he would immediately latch onto it and practically swallow it whole. The previous night's mystery was therefore bound to awaken his curiosity as effectively as a tiny speck of dust awoke Petunia's unforgiving wrath.

And so, when he—after having been given permission by the ever so feared madam Pomfrey—parked his bum by the Gryffindor table that morning he immediately listened for any sign of someone having been in the infirmary that night. Someone had gotten their heart trampled on, their virginity taken away, but not a single person had been near the infirmary. The likelihood of that happening was so small that it was ridiculous. There was always someone in the infirmary. Always.

A great sigh escaped the confines of his mouth as he grabbed a hold of his fork, uselessly shovelling around the food occupying his plate. Full lips pursed out into a pout, his left hand lazily supported his chin and his entire frame dropped into a slouch. All in all he made up the perfect picture of boredom.

"Don't play with your food, Harry." Hermione absent-mindedly reprimanded, as she turned back to her own food—just having finished scolding Ron for something, as usual.

"I'm not hungry." Harry stated, pushing the plate of untouched food away from him.

A fork spearing a crispy piece of bacon suddenly appeared in his line of vision. Ron offhandedly commented with a shrug of his shoulders, his voice husky as it usually was in the morning hours."You've got to eat mate."

With a careless flick of his wrist, Ron waved the fork teasingly in front of Harry's face—working to entice a response from the shaggy haired young man. A playful grin stretched the red head's lips upwards, growing larger and larger as the minutes ticked by and the Weasley became more creative in his methods. Even going so far as pretending that the fork was a broomstick about to crash into Harry's mouth—as one would with a child.

"Do you intend on poking my eyes out with that thing, Ron?" Harry grumbled, waving his hand at the fork as if swatting an insignificant fly.

"Come on," Ron shot back, used to Harry's moods from all the hours, days and years spent in his versatile presence, "This food is going inside your mouth whether you like it or not. I'm not opposed to force-feeding you."

"Oh for goodness sake!" Hermione burst out when noticing that Harry was still refusing to cooperate. "Eat your food Harry, you know how grumpy you get when you don't eat properly in the morning and I am not inclined to dealing with your horrible temper all day, thank you very much."

"You are not my mother you know." He commented, and despite his words morosely grabbed a hold of his fork again and viciously stabbed at a piece of sausage.

"And thank God for that. If that had been the case I don't know how I would ever survive." The girl, not at all affected by Harry's words, offhandedly remarked.

Harry responded with nothing more than a glare before shoving the poor sausage straight into his mouth. He did not pause to enjoy the taste that covered his tongue as he usually would, instead he hurriedly chewed the food and swallowed it—no enjoyment in it whatsoever. Harry always strived to take the time to enjoy his meals. His stay with the Dursley's where food—at least when it came to him—was at times sparse, had taught him to savour what food he got. And so the days where he just chomped it all down without even giving it a small taste was far between. In fact, it could be considered quite a rarity.

"Happy?" He inquired, a less than friendly smile spreading across his face.

"Immensely." Hermione said, diving straight back into the book clutched between her long, agile fingers. A thin page was expertly flipped.

With a huff and a barely there pout, Harry dropped his fork, the eating utensil hitting the plate with a clinking sound. Pushing away from the table he reached up to drag a hand through his hair before muttering. "I need to go get some books. I'll meet you in charms Ron."

"Don't be late!" Ron shouted after him, his words slightly muffled by the food occupying his mouth.

Without acknowledging his friend's last words Harry moved along the corridor between the Gryffindor and Ravenclaw table. And with one last look at his friends he gracefully slipped out of the Great Hall. Climbing the many staircases throughout the castle, it didn't take him long to reach the Gryffindor common room and ultimately the books he had been on the hunt for.

A chorus of loud snores greeted him as he pushed the doors leading to his rooms open. There was nothing unusual about the sounds, nor the sight that greeted him as he stepped into the room. Seamus and Neville were known for being heavy sleepers and the pair had, on more than one occasion, come barging down the stairs on the verge of being late for class. Much to the amusement of their fellow Gryffindors. And so when seeing them both tangled in their sheets, drool running from the corner of Seamus' mouth and Neville's upper body hanging off the bed, Harry could honestly say that he was not at all surprised.

He headed straight for his bed and bent down to pick up the books that were halfway stashed away under his bed. Slender fingers gently caressed the cover of the top book, making sure he had the correct ones before straightening up and moving to leave the room. A small smirk darted across his face as he took in the way Neville was dangerously close to falling off the bed and, instead of waking his friend, he slowly—careful not to make a sound—moved towards him and tugged on a particular piece of sheet. When seeing that Neville's body was slowly, but surely approaching the cold floor he hurried out of the room and gently closed the door behind him before hurrying down the stairs.

A loud crash and a curse rang through the air just as the Fat Lady swung open. And right as Harry jumped over the high ledge he could hear Seamus' groan. "Bloody hell, shut up, Neville!"

Light giggles erupted from his throat as Harry practically skipped through the hallways, a small smile playing at the edges of his mouth. His mood had drastically been improved and he found himself to be looking forward to his charms class. A cheerful humming reverberated off the stone walls, following in Harry's wake as he wandered through the castle.

* * *

Nothing could quite compare to the blissfulness of simply lying by the Black Lake, the snow softly cushioning his body while a wisely placed heating charm kept him from freezing. And although the tip of his nose was slightly cool it did nothing to bother him. It was a perfect day and Harry was quite certain that nothing could ruin it for him.

He lightly nibbled on the sandwich clutched in his hand. It was dinner time and, for once, Harry had decided that foregoing eating in the Great Hall in favour of picking up something in the kitchens to eat outside was a rather good idea. What harm could it do skipping dinner just this once? It wasn't as if any of the meals in Hogwarts was obligatory and Hermione and Ron were perfectly capable of eating without him. Besides, he hadn't been this relaxed in years.

His senses were heightened. His ears easily taking in the sound of birds singing, of the wind dancing through the air and the occasional splash caused by the Giant Squid's many tentacles. The sun hung high up in the sky and his skin absorbed whatever warmth it could from the glowing ball of energy. It wouldn't be too long before it set, disappearing behind the mountain tops surrounding the castle. They were steadily approaching Yule and consequently the days were growing shorter, colder and most definitely darker. Nowadays, he woke to darkness and fell asleep to it. Winter had truly arrived.

"You shouldn't be lying in the snow like that. You'll catch a cold." Snow crunched as a pair of feet came to a halt right beside him. The mild scent of a perfume flowed into his nostrils—strawberry.

"Worried about me, are you?" His lips turned upwards in a small smile while his green eyes swivelled up to gaze at a shock of red hair.

A snort was the only reply he received as a thick, dark cloak was dropped to the ground.

"Oh I understand, really, I do. I am quite irresistible after all." Harry continued on, his small smile turning into a full blown out, cocky grin.

"And conceited as well, apparently." Ginny offhandedly commented as she gracefully seated herself beside the young wizard. A slender hand reached out to bury itself in the dark mess that was Harry's hair, arranging it into a semblance of order while gently massaging his scalp.

"A little birdie told me," She began, pausing for a moment when a soft and content sigh escaped her companion. "that a certain snake has become quite interested in you."

"Hermione should really learn to keep her mouth shut." Harry groaned.

A quiet giggle erupted from Ginny, travelling up her throat. " He's rather handsome, isn't he? Quite the catch."

"Ginny!" He whined, shooting up into a sitting position before spinning around to stare at her, his pupils widened in disbelief. "Don't tell me you are in on it too!"

"I'm just saying," She pointed out, "I wouldn't mind getting a piece of that ass."

"Then have at it." Harry scrambled to his feet, brushing off the snow clinging to his clothes. "Believe me, he's all yours."

"Ah, but wouldn't it be so much more fun if he was to be yours?" Ginny continued, pursuing her friend as he moved towards the castle, her pony tail swinging back and forth as she moved into a light jog to catch up with him.

"No," Harry remarked, his eyebrows furrowing into a frown while his lips formed a slight pout, "no not at all."

"Come on, you know you want to. Just think about it. That body, all yours to do what you like with." She waggled her eyebrows in a suggestive way as a leer settled on her face.

"You are unbelievable, you know that right?" Harry spun around, pointing at her in an accusing manner. "This is vengeance isn't it? This is your revenge for what happened to that green dress of yours, isn't it?"

"It was brand new! Do you know how much it cost me?" The red head shouted back, her cheeks flushed with her fiery temper.

"How could I have known that the garden gnomes would choose that exact moment to declare war on us! Throwing the dress at them was a reflex, anyone would have done the same as me when faced with an entire army of gnomes out to get you!" Harry defended, holding his hands up as if in defeat.

"You were holding your wand!" Incredulous, she stared at him. "You could have just sent a hex their way."

"In retrospect yes..."

"But that's not the point." Ginny painfully reigned in her temper, her knuckles turning white as her hands clenched into tight fists. "It was a good attempt at distracting me, Harry, but I won't quit until you've accepted that Draco Malfoy is an absolutely delicious piece of man candy and that you want him."

"You flatter me, Weaslette, really, you do." A most unwanted voice cut into their conversation.

It was as if the whole universe was against him, determined to smack him down into the darkest of chasms before pissing on him, laughing all the while. As if it was a great bully with a giant magnifying glass angled just so that the sun could fry a poor little ant—the poor little ant named Harry.

With an almost pained grimace plastered on his face, Harry spun around, his entire frame frigid with tension. The intensity of Malfoy's eyes clashing with his own nearly had him struggling for breath.

"Has no one ever told you that eavesdropping is unbecoming?" He drawled, moving so that he was shielding Ginny from the Slytherin.

"Eavesdropping?" Malfoy questioned, a mockingly surprised expression on his face. "Is that what I was doing? I had the impression that I was merely having a walk and coincidentally caught a piece of your conversation as I walked by."

And then he added, practically leering as his eyes swept up and down Harry's body. "what with all the shouting going on it was rather difficult to miss, I'm afraid."

"Is that so? Then the proper thing to do would have been to simply walk on and pretend as if you had heard nothing, wouldn't you agree?" A wry smile lightened his features, his green eyes narrowed and darkened as he attentively watched the Slytherin's every move.

"Ah, but how could I when the conversation's topic was so..._interesting_." The blond moved forward, only stopping when he had successfully invaded Harry's personal space.

The Gryffindor's breath hitched as a most intoxicating scent wafted into his nose, his nostrils flaring as he subtly tried to inhale more of it. Green eyes fluttered, falling to half mast as he tried to distinguish exactly what it was about the scent that had him so...so affected. With a start he realised it was coming from Malfoy. Mortification rushed through him, his cheeks flushing red as he gazed at the blond in shock.

Harry was a coward really. Truly undeserving to be in the house of Gryffindor. For instead of facing Malfoy head with a witty retort or even a sarcastic '_oh Draco, take me! Take me now!' _as he usually would have, he ran away. Oh yes, Harry Potter, defeater of the Dark Lord, bravest of all brave Gryffindors, had run away with his tail tucked between his legs. And to make it worse, he had run away from a Slytherin!

Ginny was never going to let him forget this...

* * *

The rest of the day, or rather, the rest of the week went by in a game of hide and seek. A quite tiring game at that. Ducking behind Hermione or Ron each time he caught sight of a flash of red or blond was quickly making him weary. He had never been aware of exactly how many of the student population in Hogwarts who were blessed with red or blond hair, but he was rapidly becoming aware of the fact that they were many. So many, in fact, that Harry had by now lost count of how many times he had resorted to hiding.

On the other hand he had become much more advanced in the art of stealth. Taking a leaf out of Professor Snape's book and keeping to the shadows, not making a spectacle of himself and always making sure to stay in the vicinity of a large crowd should the need to blend in arise. Ron and Hermione had long since given up on keeping up with him, merely rolling their eyes and continuing with their day when Harry suddenly chose to disappear. Seven years, it seemed, had been enough to make them immune to his small quirks and antics.

A startling glint of red flashed before his eyes, forcing a sharp inhale out of him as he hurriedly pressed himself into the wall he was standing by. The cool stone a great contrast to his hot skin. Anxiously he licked at his lips, his green eyes flitting back and forth as he searched for some sign that his eyes had not deceived him. There! He immediately zoomed in, eyes narrowing when he confirmed that it was, indeed, Miss Ginny Weasley he had caught sight of. And worst of all, _she _had caught sight of _him_.

There was something incredibly foreboding and evil about the way that smile spread across her face. Slowly transforming her into something sinister. Nothing, Harry had experienced on several occasions, was as frightening as a woman when scheming. And none more so than Ginny. Perhaps that was the effect of having grown up with the twins as brothers. Though, Harry thought it more likely that she had been born with this particular...gift.

"Oh Harry." She singsonged, her voice chiming through the air like the smoothest of silk.

Had it not been for the fact that she would see him as an even bigger coward than he already was, Harry would have bolted the moment she uttered his name. However, for the sake of his pride he held his ground and faced her head on. He was the son of a marauder for pity's sake, there was no situation that he could not wriggle his way out of. Or at least, he had yet to encounter a situation which he could not escape. A single look into Ginny's glinting eyes had him doubting himself...

* * *

**A/N: **It took time, a lot of time, but finally I was able to finish this chapter for you. Things have been a bit hectic lately, I've fallen ill with mononucleosis so I haven't really been up to writing. Luckily, however, I'm beginning to feel a lot better and as such my inspiration has rushed right back into me! Oh happy day! Anyway, I hope you are all satisfied with this chapter, although it is a bit short.


	5. IMPORTANT!

Hi,

I'd like to give everyone a fair warning, it might take some time before I'm ready to update. Earlier this week my computer crashed, something about the hard disc isn't working properly and most likely I've lost all the documents I have stored on it, including all my chapters. And of course, due to my fantastic luck, it had to happen now in May when preparations for the exams begin.

So due to this I have to ask all of you to be patient with me. I'll try to write as much as I can, but I have to start from scratch on all my new chapters. Dealing with that and the exams makes it impossible for me to give you a fast update, as I'm sure you all understand.

Thank you for all of your patience!

CrimsonSnowflake


	6. In the viper's nest

**Title: **With The Drop Of A Fork**  
**

**Author: **CrimsonSnowflake**  
**

**Disclaimer: **Harry Potter belongs to J.K Rowling, all the copyrights associated with Harry Potter belongs to her. Only the ideas contained within this story is the property of the author. No profit is being made by the writer of this story.

* * *

_"I have a simply philosophy: Fill what's empty. Empty what's full. Scratch where it itches." _- Alice Roosevelt Longworth, 1884-1980_  
_

* * *

**Chapter 5:**

**In the viper's nest**

"If I didn't know any better, I'd say you've been avoiding me, Harry darling," said Ginny. Full lips curved into a teasing smile as blue eyes shone with mischief, "But that would be silly of me to believe, wouldn't it?"

"No, not really. I have no problem admitting that I've been avoiding you..." Harry stated as he pushed away from the stone pillar he was leaning on to follow Ginny when she began moving through the hallway. He had a feeling that the conversation they were about to have needed privacy—a lot of privacy, if the mischievous look dominating Ginny's features was an indication.

For five minutes they kept walking, weaving through the student crowd and conquering the moving staircases until finally they reached a most familiar bare patch of wall. Harry was content to take a step back and wait as Ginny performed the required procedure, only shifting when the large, intricate doors of the Room of Requirement appeared.

"Ladies first, eh Harry?" Ginny said as she opened the door, not waiting for a reply before she entered the room.

With one final, careless glance at his surroundings Harry followed the redheaded girl, silently closing the door behind him and leaving nothing but a plain wall to be seen in his wake.

The crackling of fire was the first thing that greeted his senses as he turned to take in the room. A large, plush sofa was located in the centre of the room, gently lit by the light produced by the ornate fireplace. The walls were lined with several shelves and a rather impressive chandelier hung from the roof. Except for that though, the room was strangely empty, almost naked in the lack of decorations.

"Come on then," Ginny said while motioning for Harry to come join her in front of the fire, "take a seat. I have a feeling you'll want to sit down for this conversation."

"Do I even want to hear this?" Harry questioned as he moved to grab a couple of pillows from the couch, throwing them to the floor before plopping down on them with a slight sigh. If he was to sit on the floor he could at least make it as comfortable as possible.

"Most likely not, but you'll have to anyway."

His lips curled into a wry smile at the comment delivered so offhandedly. "I feel so loved."

Ginny scoffed, fishing out a bag of marshmallows from her schoolbag and with a quick flick of her wrist transfigured a couple of books into two skewers with wooden handles. Impaling some marshmallows on the sharp edges, she handed Harry one before turning back to the fire and proceeding to roast the delicious treat.

"A couple of days ago Hermione and I lost something of great importance—or rather the Slytherins took it from us. We want you to go down there and get it."

A dark eyebrow arched. "Why me? Why don't you just do it yourselves, or better yet, force Ron?"

"Ron? Really Harry, Ron? We need someone subtle and I'm afraid that my dear brother doesn't possess a single subtle bone in his body."

"True," Harry relented before turning to look at Ginny with a suspicious glare, "exactly what is it I will be retrieving?"

"That's classified information."

"Then how am I supposed to find it if I don't know what I'm looking for?"

She smiled, "don't worry, you'll know. Hermione put a tracking spell on it; I'll get her to teach you the incantation."

* * *

There was a certain amount of stealth and highly trained senses required when performing a top secret mission—more so when said mission involved the most cunning of all, Slytherins. Of course, anyone with a brain and the capability to think for themselves would have immediately recognized how impossible the mission was, thus saying no and going on with their lives. That is to say... anyone with a brain and who was not a Gryffindor. As it was Harry _did_ have a brain and was in fact a member of the noble house of Gryffindor. Yet, even he, with all his courage, knew that outsmarting a Slytherin was a most difficult feat and that the repercussions were horrible, indeed. With that being said there was one thing—more fearsome than anything one can possible imagine—that made the Slytherins fade in comparison, and that was the wrath of Hermione Granger and Ginny Weasley combined.

It was universally acknowledged in the house of Gryffindor that when the two were on the warpath it was every man for himself. Forgotten was the honour and nobility they so prided themselves in, replaced by the most basic of feelings, their instinct of survival. And so, when taking that into consideration, it was not at all odd that one Harry Potter and Ron Weasley were currently hiding in a shadowed alcove while sneakily keeping an eye on Blaize Zabini and Draco Malfoy. Though sneaky was, perhaps, not the best way to describe Ron's movements. Loud and clumsy, yes. Sneaky? No, not at all. In fact, Harry thought it a wonder that the two wizards they were spying on had yet to discover them.

"Would you be quiet?" Harry hissed, narrowed green eyes swinging around to glare at his friend as Ron's shuffling had, once again, made more noise than they could afford.

"I'm trying," Ron whispered back, pressing himself further up against the wall when Zabini suddenly turned to look in their direction.

"Try harder then." With his back turned to their targets Harry was left completely unaware that Malfoy had also turned to look at their cosy little hideout. That the two Slytherins had actually begun moving towards them, a knowing glint in their eyes. And so it was perfectly natural that Harry, when turning around and coming face to face with a certain blond, let out a squeak. A very manly squeak, mind you.

Harry blurted out the first thing that came to mind. "Bugger."

"Eloquent, Potter. " Blaise commented, his dark eyes shining in amusement, before turning to look at his blond companion. "Are you sure about this, Draco?"

"Of course I am." Malfoy gruffly replied, his narrowed eyes practically digging into a flushing Ron. "You heard what I said last week; I don't go back on my word, Blaise."

"Just making sure, that's all."

Hesitantly, Harry took a step backwards, making sure to put some distance between him and the intimidating blond before him. "As nice as this meeting has been," he began, "I'm afraid we have to leave. We have things to do and people to see, right Ron?"

"Oh yes, we're very busy people, you know. No time for chit chats." Ron added, shifting from one foot to the other, anxious to get away from the Slytherins, especially due to the fact that they currently found themselves to be in snake territory. It wasn't safe.

"Well then, by all means Weasley, we won't be stopping you." Malfoy said, mockingly gesturing with a sweep of his arm for Ron to leave.

"Come on Harry," the red head murmured, reaching out to grab a hold of his friend's wrist. His ears flushed red as he struggled to keep a lid on his temper.

Wisely, Harry kept his mouth shut, knowing that one word from him could serve to worsen their already tense situation and in turn shatter Ron's thin control into thousands of pieces. So with no resistance he complied with his friend's movements and moved to follow him past the two Slytherins. As if they would allow such a thing.

Before they had even managed five steps, Zabini appeared before them, blocking their only way of escape. An amused smirk handsomely twisted the dark young man's features, and for a moment—though only a mere second—Harry found himself admiring the other. The Slytherin was many things, he dazedly mused, and downright drool worthy was one of them.

"I'm afraid you've misunderstood." A smooth voice drawled as Malfoy closed in on them from behind, effectively eliminating any attempt at retreating. "_You_ are free to leave, Weasley, but I'm afraid we have some business with Potter here."

"What?" came Ron's outraged reply. "There's no way I'm leaving Harry alone with the two of you, he'd never make it out alive!"

"Wow," Harry dryly commented, desperately trying to ignore the blond standing right behind. "Thank you for the vote of confidence Ron, really I'm speechless."

A flush managed to worm its way up Ron's throat, colouring his entire face as he sputtered. "Well...you know what I mean Harry. I'm not saying you can't take care of yourself, of course you can, but...you know." And cautiously, with a vicious glare sent in Malfoy's direction Ron leaned in and continued, "They're Slytherins."

And that was all that needed to be said, really. As if having been reminded of a horrific truth Harry turned to glance suspiciously at the two blocking their path. Ron was right, they were _Slytherins_ and as such there was no saying what they wanted with him. But on the other hand, this could be the perfect opportunity to complete his mission...

"You go on ahead, Ron. " He murmured, "And don't tell Hermione, she'll freak out."

"But—"

"Blaise," Malfoy interrupted, "Be a gentleman and escort Weasley out of here. He doesn't seem to realise that his company is no longer wanted, nor appreciated."

A quiet chuckle rumbled through Zabini as he moved to grab a hold of the redhead, easily steering him away from his fellow Gryffindor—despite the violent struggle. Within seconds the two had disappeared around the corner, leaving Harry alone with Malfoy. There he was: trapped in the viper's nest with the basilisk himself.

Cautiously, Harry shuffled to lean against the wall, defensively crossing his arms as he looked at the blond with an expectant gaze. The absence of Ron unnerved him somewhat, and he wanted nothing more than to get on with their business. Malfoy, however, seemed to have a different idea.

"Walk with me," the Slytherin commanded, and in a completely unexpected move held out his arm for Harry to grab onto. It startled him. Though not aware of its significance—not having paid attention when Hermione explained it to him—he had seen the move performed more than once. He had become used to seeing it, filing it away as some sort of pureblood tradition that had nothing to do with him. And so, when it was done as a gesture towards Harry, he didn't quite know how to react—especially considering the fact that the gesture had been made by Draco Malfoy, of all people.

He had a feeling though, that refusing the arm would only serve to anger the other, not a smart thing to do when in Slytherin territory. With that in mind, he slowly reached forward, gently entwining his arm with that of Malfoy and nervously swallowing as the blond's fingers immediately took a hold of his own, easily lacing them together.

Harry was suddenly grateful that the hallway was deserted.

"Where are we going?" Harry questioned, not willing to admit that the Slytherin's actions were unnerving him.

"My rooms, it's more private there."

Harry faltered in his step, and would have fallen flat on his face, was it not for the steady support of Malfoy's arm. Wide green eyes swivelled up to stare at the blond's stoic face; disbelief and shock making them glisten. Malfoy seemed completely unfazed by his own words, as if bringing a Gryffindor into his rooms was an everyday occurrence. As if the Slytherin trusted him with the location of the silver and green common room—which Harry, of course, already knew.

It was the principle of things, a golden rule that all the houses abided by; a Gryffindor in the very heart of Slytherin territory was unheard of. Firstly, there was no Gryffindor in their right mind who would agree to such a thing—at least not without some backup. And secondly, bringing a lion into the snakes' sanctuary simply went against the very nature of the Slytherins, it opposed their most prominent tenet, their self-preservation.

So lost in thought was he, that Harry never had the opportunity to utter so much as a protest before they had stopped at a familiar patch of wall and after a quickly muttered password entered the Slytherin common room. Harry had the distinct feeling of being a cornered mouse unable to escape the deathly claws of a cat. The sound of the wall closing behind them only seemed to heighten this particular feeling. It nearly felt claustrophobic.

A room packed with Slytherins was what greeted him as he lifted his eyes to gaze at the room instead of the impeccable stone floor. None of them seemed to have noticed him yet, and he cringed to think of the glares he would receive when they did. And once that horrible moment of assessing the prey was over, he was certain they would tear into him like a pack of ravenous wolves.

As if on cue the first pair of eyes—a dull brown—lifted to look straight at him. More followed as Malfoy guided him further into the room. It seemed though, that the fact that their leader had been the one to lead him there was enough for them to dismiss him as a non-threat. Without so much as a sound they turned back to their previous occupation, leaving Malfoy and Harry to go on with their business. It was all so anti-climatic that it left Harry reeling and baffled.

Reassuringly, Malfoy squeezed his hand, successfully drawing his attention away from the many people in the room. They went up a set of stairs, turned to the left when the corridor split in two and ended up passing several doors before finally stopping in front of a door of ebony. A quiet click reached his ears as Malfoy turned the knob, only a slight shove was needed for the door to soundlessly swing open.

Stepping back, Malfoy gently relinquished his hold on Harry's arm and gestured for him to step into the room. And he did, though not without a cautious glance at his companion. Despite Malfoy's lack of hostility up until now, he would not put it past him to have an ambush waiting for him behind this very doorway.

No such thing happened though, and Harry nearly found himself to be disappointed at how ordinary and like those up in Gryffindor tower the room actually was. The only difference, it seemed, was the colour theme.

"Please, take a seat." Malfoy gestured towards one particular bed, his own Harry guessed. It was odd though, how polite the Slytherin was acting. Harry had never seen him so gentlemanly, not even to the girls in Slytherin and least of all towards _him_. He didn't know what to think of the blond's new behaviour.

"I have a proposal to make," the blond stated, turning to stand before Harry, "A truce between ourselves and our houses."

"A truce?" Harry slowly repeated, crossing his legs at the ankles as he leaned back, and with a sceptic look added, "Involving what, exactly?"

"Your house stops going out of its way to torture any Slytherin they can get their hands on and so will my housemates with your Gryffindors. It's our last year; why not make it as enjoyable as possible, hm?" A smile—one not often seen—drew Harry's attention to the blond's face, taking in his sharp features while at the same time trying to figure out whether or not the offer was genuine.

He licked his lips. "That's all? You want nothing else? I wonder, what is the reason for this sudden change of mind? I'm sorry to say that I can't find it in myself to believe that you are proposing this out of the goodness of your heart."

"No," Malfoy began after a small pause, "this is not—as you put it—out of any goodness towards any of your little friends. I admit that my reasons for this are quite selfish. Self-preservation is the key here, Potter. There are many students in my house, who feel...shall we say pressured into committing to a cause far from tempting. You—and consequently the Headmaster—are the only ones they can turn to for...guidance on this matter."

It was an odd thing to hear coming from Malfoy's lips. Harry had certainly never imagined that the house of Slytherin would turn to him for help, and least of all for help to get out of serving Voldemort. He had, ever since he'd learnt of Voldemort and his death eaters had the impression that nothing would please the young Slytherins more than to follow their parents' example and kneel at their master's feet, doing his bidding.

Yet again it seemed he was wrong.

"I see."He smiled reassuringly, making it clear that he understood what the blond was insinuating, while dragging a hand through his hair. "But that only involves the truce between our houses; you haven't mentioned the one between us."

"It's come to my attention that you are in quite the predicament. Gryffindor ladies are very demanding chits, aren't they? It wasn't the safest task they gave you, sending you here. I can help you with that." Malfoy paused, taking a step closer as his lips formed a small smirk, "For a price, of course."

"And what would that be?"

"A kiss, a proper one on the mouth with tongue, in the middle of the Great Hall."

It was official, Harry thought as his mouth dropped open and his eyes widened in disbelief, Draco Malfoy had gone barmy.

* * *

**TBC**

By the way people! Let's all thank my new beta Arithmancy Master for being so efficient and helping me with this chapter! If it weren't for you I wouldn't have been nearly as happy with this chapter as I am. :)**  
**


	7. A very bad day

**Title:** With The Drop Of A Fork

**Author:** CrimsonSnowflake

**Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to J.K Rowling, all the copyrights associated with Harry Potter belongs to her. Only the ideas contained within this story is the property of the author. No profit is being made by the writer of this story.**

**A/N: **I'm so incredibly sloooow... I hate that it's taken me such a long time to finish and post this chapter and I have no excuse to come with other than the heapload of schoolwork I have. We're nearing Christmas now, and unfortunately I have an in depth study due early in December (I haven't even started on it!), a theory test in PE now on Tuesday, English test tomorrow and God knows what else. I don't even want to know. It's horrible I tell you! But enough of my complaints, here you have the next chapter and you should really savour it because something tells me that I won't be coming with the next one anytime soon. Enjoy!

* * *

_"What lies behind us and what lies behind us are tiny matters compared to what lies within us." - Ralph Waldo Emerson, 1803 - 1882_

* * *

**Chapter 6: **

**A very bad day**

"You wouldn't happen to have taken an unknown potion of some sort, have you Malfoy?" Harry said as he pushed off of the bed, carefully reaching out to gently lay his hand on the blond's forehead, leaving it there for a few moments before murmuring to himself, "doesn't seem to have a fever..."

"I'm fine," Malfoy said as he grabbed Harry's wrist, gently lowering their hands, even going so far as to caress the soft flesh stretched over his pulse, "there's nothing wrong with me."

"Nothing wrong with you? Are you serious? You just asked me to kiss you, Malfoy! Of course there's something wrong with you!" He jerked his hand free, proceeding to pace about the room like a cornered animal. The rules of their relationship, their rivalry, had shifted and to be perfectly honest he didn't have a clue on how to handle it.

"Why?" the blond questioned as his stormy grey eyes latched onto Harry's green ones, his stare so intense that Harry faltered in his step, "why is it so unbelievable that I sincerely wish for a kiss from you?"

"Well then," Harry crossed his arms, arching one dark eyebrow, "if you want it so much, then it shouldn't be a problem if I just give it to you now, should it? After all, a kiss is a kiss; it shouldn't matter whether you receive it here or in the Great Hall."

"Of course it matters. " snarled Malfoy, taking several steps forward until he had Harry backed up against the wall, boxing him in and closing off every single escape route. Something seemed to flash in his eyes then as his lips morphed into a dangerous sneer. Strong, pale fingers snapped out to grab a firm hold of Harry's dark locks and sharply baring the Gryffindor's neck, forcing a quiet gasp out of him.

It was an awkward position that gave Malfoy all the control, leaving Harry horribly vulnerable. "Make no mistake. There are no negotiations going on here, _Harry_," he purred the name, low and dangerous, "I will have my kiss and I will get it in front of the entire school, no exception."

It had only been a few hours since then, and Harry had still not managed to get the blond's words out of his head. Not even Ginny and Hermione's excited chatter when he'd delivered their precious parcel—the contents of which they refused to show him—hadn't been enough to snap him out of the trance he was caught in as he wandered around the castle grounds.

Could it really be that Hermione was right? Did Malfoy—as she had so aptly put it—have the hots for him? It was extremely unlikely; they had been enemies ever since they met, for Merlin's sake! And yet Malfoy's recent actions seemed to go against that and instead backed up—if only slightly—Hermione's theory. One didn't go around demanding a kiss from someone one hated, after all. Unless it was a bet...Yes, that had to be it! Malfoy was only acting on a bet, not an actual wish for a kiss.

A cold gust of wind ruffled the fabric of his cloak, sending shivers down his spine as he hurried through the courtyard, the slightest hint of the night's darkness settling. Snow crunched beneath his feet, his breath turned to smoke and his nose and ears had turned a fresh red. It was all a testimony to the cold that ruled the grounds. The very same cold that he had decided to brave in order to clear his mind and get away from his friends, enemies and people in general.

Wrapping his thick winter cloak tighter around him he climbed down the gently sloping hill, towards his destination: Hagrid's hut. The groundskeeper—Harry knew—was away on some errand on behalf of Dumbledore and had given him the key to his hut, telling him that it was his to use whenever he pleased—on the condition that he fed Fang and provided him with some company, of course.

The ground levelled out and he released a relieved sigh, the danger of tripping and rolling down the hill having vanished. His confidence boosted, he moved on with more of a spring to his step. The closer he got to the hut, the better the little that was left of his day seemed to become.

Green eyes widened and a sharp cry forced its way out of his throat as he slid on a patch of ice. A myriad of pain bloomed as his arse connected with the unrelenting hardness of the ground.

"Bloody hell," he hissed as he shifted into a sitting position, grimacing as every move sent a new wave of throbbing pain through his bum. He could nearly feel the bruises forming already and cringed at the massive pain that would no doubt greet him in the morning.

Harry grumbled to himself, cursing the winter, the ice and Draco Malfoy for occupying his mind, forcing him to think things through and thus the reason for him being out there so late. All in all, it was a very grumpy Gryffindor that conquered the last few meters to Hagrid's hut. In fact, he barely managed to keep from slamming the door shut when he stepped into the hut.

A face full of drool and slobber was the first thing that greeted him as a large, furry body collided with his. The air was forced out of his lungs as he stumbled back, lost his footing and—for the second time—fell to the hard floor.

It was official Harry mused as he groaned, desperately trying to get away from the long, wet tongue licking at him, this was the worst day of his life. As if his confrontation with Malfoy hadn't been enough, he had to top it all off by falling and hitting his poor bum not once, but twice!

With a gruff growl he pushed the large dog off of him, hesitating for only a moment before pushing himself up on his feet. Limping slightly, he made his way to the only cupboard located within the hut. His annoyance grew to new heights as he grabbed a bag of meat that contained Fang's meal. It became clear to him then as the pain seemed to intensify, that he would not make it back to the castle that night.

Using more force than necessary he threw Fang's bowl to the floor, watching as the dog immediately scrambled forth to take part in its meal. Content with the knowledge that Fang would be busy with devouring his food, Harry moved to the large fireplace and got started on building a fire. Soon enough the fireplace was roaring and after throwing one last cube of wood into it he moved to the large chest placed at the foot of Hagrid's bed.

It was large, made out of leather and delightfully old fashioned; Harry couldn't help but to run his hands over it in fascination. The leather felt smooth under his fingers. Carefully, he pressed on the locks and smiled when they gave a satisfying click. It was odd how something so simple could brighten his mood to such a degree; turning him from a sourpuss to a bright ray of sunshine.

"Now let's see if I can find something to use here..." he murmured to himself and opened the trunk with a light push.

Heaps of fabric in various colours greeted him. He had been right in his assumption; Hagrid did keep his clothes there. It didn't take him long to find a white shirt, most likely a leftover from the groundkeeper's youth. Hurriedly, Harry removed his clothes and dressed in the shirt. It was moderately sized, though it was still too big to be considered anything other than a dress on Harry, what with it reaching him mid-thigh and practically drowning him in the soft fabric.

Giving one final glance in Fang's direction to assure himself that the dog was fine, he climbed into bed. Snuggling into his pillow, he relished the softness of the mattress and finally fell asleep to the crackling of the fireplace.

* * *

_He was scared, terrified, really. Tortured screams surrounded him, slamming into his eardrums in a constant stream of never-ending agony. They reminded him that he was not alone. There were others there, innocent victims who had no idea what they were being tortured for. He could hear their hoarse voices begging for the pain to stop, pleading for someone—anyone—to show mercy and end their life. Cruel laughter was the only response._

_Despite the darkness that surrounded him he could still see the dried blood that painted the walls, the floor and even the shackles that kept him suspended from the ceiling. It was evidence, evidence that he was not the only one who had been kept in this room and probably wouldn't be the last. They would be coming for him and soon enough his voice would join the choir that was already performing. Soon enough his blood would be the one to coat the walls. _

_A quiet chuckle suddenly filled his cell, sending shivers racing down his spine. There was no mistaking who that laughter belonged to. The lack of emotion, the subtle hiss and the ever so familiar way his scar flared up in pain. It was painstakingly obvious that the one standing before him was none other than Voldemort. _

"_The mind is a peculiar place, isn't it, Harry." The snake-like man purred, "Anything, even the physically impossible, is possible. For example, I could kill you over and over again and so long as I wish it you will always come back to life. Can you imagine? A never ending circle of pain, torture and finally the sweet relief of death only to be forcefully ripped away from that peace and back into the agony from whence you came." _

_His breath hitched as long, pale fingers traced his face in a mockingly gentle caress. Red eyes flitted up and down, taking in every inch of Harry's face, drinking him in like a man who hadn't tasted a drop of water in years. _

"_Such a beautiful face," The Dark Lord cooed while his fingers switched from their gentle caress to grip his jaw possessively, "I wonder... would young Mr. Malfoy be so infatuated with you had you been without it?" _

_Voldemort's eyes flashed in agitation as he turned Harry's head from side to side, inspecting him as one would a potential pet. "You are mine, Harry. Mine to kill, mine to keep alive and mine to do with as I please, never forget that."_

"_Yours?" Voldemort's possessiveness finally prompted Harry to break his silence. "I'll never be yours." _

"_Really?" the Slytherin smirked dangerously. "You've always been mine; the very moment that that blasted seer uttered the prophecy you became my property." _

_Snarling, Harry glared at Voldemort thrashing in an attempt at breaking free of his chains and wrapping his hands around the vulnerable throat of the man—no, monster—before him. _

"_My dear Harry," Amused, he chuckled, not at all affected by the display, "how precious you are." _

_A twisted sneer appeared on his face as he suddenly summoned a sharp knife, teasingly running it up and down Harry's throat with just enough pressure to draw forth a thin line of blood. A choked whimper managed to worm its way across Harry's lips as the Dark Lord leaned forward and followed the crimson line with his tongue. _

"_Now," he gently whispered into Harry's ear, as if to a lover, "do be a good boy and scream for me." _

_With a gleeful grin the knife plunged into his stomach. _

A high-pitched and terrified scream tore through his throat as he bolted up in bed. Dark pupils contracted in complete and utter fear as his body trembled; he could still feel where the knife had cut through his skin. Frantically, he tore his sleeping shirt off; his fingers were shaking as they ran across the unharmed flesh of his belly. There was nothing there, yet an almost unbearable jolt of pain went through him every time his fingers grazed across the place where his wound would—or rather should—have been.

His face turned white as he stumbled out of bed and tore, half-naked, out of the little hut and into the cold winter snow. Harry's feet gave up on him and he barely managed to catch himself before he violently emptied the contents of his stomach until he was dry heaving. His entire frame shook in the aftermath and his eyes were brimming with tears, it was as if all his strength had been drained right out of him.

A cold, wet nose suddenly nudged him in his side, forcing him out of his stupor to realize that he was not alone. Fang sat—ever so patiently—beside him, his head tilted to the side in an inquisitive manner. Shuddering, Harry leaned into the warm, furry body and buried his face into the dog's neck. The dog's warmth was heavenly, he thought to himself as he gently wrapped his arms around the large body.

With much help from Fang, Harry managed to climb to his feet and shakily made his way through the snow and into the warm hut. A grimace appeared on his face as his green eyes landed on the bed. The prospect of going to sleep was far from tempting; he wasn't particularly into re-living his nightmares again and again. So instead of climbing back into the bed Harry grabbed a couple of blankets and settled himself in the armchair that stood to the left of the fireplace.

He stayed there for the rest of the night, but didn't catch another wink of sleep.

* * *

"Where is he?" Hermione hissed as she once again scanned the Great Hall for the unruly mop of hair that rested on the head of one Harry James Potter. She was worried. Harry hadn't come back to the common room after his talk with Malfoy and from what Ron had told her of their encounter with the two Slytherins, she couldn't help but think that his disappearance was somehow connected to that.

"Stop worrying," Ron murmured while reaching for a piece of bread, the redhead was—as always—the most composed whenever Harry decided to disappear for some time, "he's most likely gone down to Hagrid's and stayed the night there."

She shot him a lethal glare, "It never fails to astonish me how little concern you show for our friend, Ronald."

"Concern? What's there to be concerned about?" Finally he turned to look at her, a knowing glint shining in his blue eyes as he added, "Harry needed some time alone, that's all. He'll show up sometime during the day."

With an irritated huff she turned away from him, knowing that there would be no other response from that end. Despite the fact that she was perfectly aware that Ron knew the inner workings of Harry better than anyone, she still couldn't settle down. Harry seemed to wake some sort of motherly instinct within her. As a result of that she couldn't help but to feel guilty that she had taken part in the actions that had led to Harry being caught in Malfoy's claws.

Yes, to begin with she had been curious, fascinated by the subtle ways in which Malfoy reacted to Harry's presence. And due to her inquisitive nature she had prodded, pushed Harry into enticing the blond and in her eagerness she had forgotten exactly who it was they were dealing with. The moment Ron had returned to the common room without Harry she knew that Malfoy had finally pounced. She had realized—with horror—that they,_ she _hadn't been fooling anyone and the Slytherin had seen through their actions from the very beginning.

Biting her lip she turned to look at the blond. As always he was seated at the very centre of the Slytherin table, surrounded by his housemates. His posture was as regal and composed as ever, his uniform pristine and without a single wrinkle, blond hair was perfectly arranged and cool, grey eyes glanced about the room in a superior manner. He was as a pureblood heir was supposed to be; flawless.

In retrospect it had been foolish of her to imagine that she could win in a game against this particular Slytherin, especially in a game where slyness was—to a great degree—involved. To think that she had been arrogant enough to believe that she could manipulate Malfoy in any manner...she turned back to looking at her plate. She had miscalculated the situation and now Harry would, if not suffer, at least feel the consequences of Hermione's actions.

Suddenly, she found herself struggling to keep the tears at bay, her hands curling into fists in her lap. If she couldn't undo what had come to pass then she would, in the very least, do everything in her power to make it easier for her friend. One way or the other she _would_ find a way to make up for what she had done, she had to.

"See, I told you so." Ron's voice suddenly penetrated her inner musings.

"What?" She asked bemusedly.

"I told you Harry would be back," he explained, nodding in the direction of the large, open doors.

And sure enough, there Harry stood in all his glory.

With a relieved sigh she watched as Harry made his way to them, frowning when she noticed the way he was limping ever so lightly, they way he cringed whenever he moved a certain way, the dark circles under his eyes and the ashen, almost sickly pallor to his face. Something had happened.

"Ron," Hermione whispered, pushing her elbow into Ron's side and demanding his attention, "look at him."

"Bloody hell," The redhead uttered as his blue eyes took in the state his friend was in. "He looks as if he's been trampled over, eaten and then shit out again by a hippogriff."

Too focused and worried about Harry, Hermione didn't deign to scold Ron for his language. Instead she furrowed her brows, frowning as she observed how Harry swayed from side to side, clearly only moments away from collapsing. It took everything in her to keep from rising to her feet and helping Harry to his seat. It would be far from appreciated, she was certain. Her boys—Harry more so—were often more stubborn than, strictly speaking, was healthy.

With a loud thump Harry dropped onto the wooden bench, immediately slumping forward to rest his forehead on his folded arms.

"You alright there, mate?" Ron tentatively asked, leaning forward in order to place a gentle hand on Harry's shoulder.

"I'm fine," Harry replied, looking up for a moment to reward Ron with a tired smile, "just didn't get much sleep last night, that's all."

"Are you sure?" Hermione joined in, moving forward to start loading Harry's plate with food.

"There's nothing to worry about, Hermione, all I need is some food and a good night's sleep and then I'll be as good as new." She had always had this uncanny ability to see whenever the dark haired boy was lying, and every cell within her was screaming that Harry was, indeed, keeping something from them. Her instincts were telling her what she had known the moment Harry had set foot within the Great Hall; he was far from fine.

Hermione decided to let it drop, though. Nothing good would come out of pressing for information at the moment. There was no telling what a cornered animal would do and in a situation such as this there was no telling what Harry would do to escape their questions. No, for now she would sit back, observe and only intervene when it was absolutely necessary.

And as she watched Harry push his food around instead of eating it, it suddenly struck her that an intervention would not be too far into the future. He was already showing signs of too much stress and she was certain that with the added burden of dealing with Malfoy's new advances he wouldn't last for long.

"If you say so, Harry," she finally murmured.


	8. Tangled knots

**Title: **With The Drop Of A Fork

**Author: **CrimsonSnowflake

**Disclaimer: **** Harry Potter belongs to J.K Rowling, all the copyrights associated with Harry Potter belongs to her. Only the ideas contained within this story is the property of the author. No profit is being made by the writer of this story.**  


**A/N:** It took a very long time to finish this chapter and I am awfully sorry about that, I have no excuse to give you, in the end it was pure laziness and a bit of writing block on my part. Hopefully you will all be satisfied with the result, despite the long wait.

On another note, I have some very exciting news for you all. "A Malfoy gets what a Malfoy wants" and "I love you" has been translated into polish by Lilly-Lin. My other story "Fighting Another War" will also be translated, though not in polish, but rather spanish by Neya91. I like to take these translations as a compliment, after all, I can't be that bad at writing when a person takes the time to translate my stories into their own language in order to share it with those who can't read english, right? I'll make sure to post the links on my profile if any of you want to take a look. ;)

Anyway, I'll stop my rambling now and let you get on with the story. Enjoy!

* * *

_"A good head and a good heart are always a formidable combination." - Nelson Mandela 1918-?_

* * *

**Chapter 7:**

**Tangled knots**

Harry's life had, as always, become a complicated mess of tangled knots that just refused to co-operate. Sleep evaded him; or rather he evaded sleep, doing his utmost to escape the nightmares that plagued him. Malfoy and his unusual behaviour were constantly on his mind, an unresolved mystery that just wouldn't leave him alone, no matter how much he tried to distract himself from it. And now something new, and equally as frustrating, had been added to the equation. One Seamus Finnegan had suddenly decided that his days of sitting back and just admiring Harry were over, no, he had now come to the conclusion that it was time to up the stakes and seriously pursue his fellow Gryffindor. As if Harry didn't have enough troubles to begin with, now he had to deal with a horny Gryffindor as well, a very persistent one at that. In fact, it had reached the point where Harry was actually considering agreeing to a date if only to get the Irishman off his back.

"Am I boring you, Mr. Potter?" Professor McGonagall's voice—as sharp as ever—cut through the air. The stern woman was standing in front of his desk, a stern frown adorned her face and her foot was tapping in agitation. "If my lecture on the rules of transfiguration on living creatures is boring you, then by all means, you are free to leave this classroom. I will not force you to stay."

He barely managed to produce a somewhat charming smile as he replied, "Of course not Professor, I'm all ears."

As soon as McGonagall turned her back on him—though not before shooting him a disgruntled glare—his head dropped to rest against the cool surface of his wooden desk. Harry could practically feel the disapproving glower that Hermione had pointed to his back, but couldn't really find it in him to feel guilty. Frankly, he was too tired to care. Besides, he had more serious things to worry about...like the warm hand slowly sneaking its way up his right thigh.

A quiet hiss escaped him as he viciously pinched the wandering hand. He knew it had been a bad idea to sit beside Seamus. And had it not been for his love struck friend, he wouldn't have either. Ron had somehow convinced him that the Irishman wouldn't dare to try anything in class, consequently dumping Harry so that he could sit beside Hermione. Yeah, he would never trust his redheaded friend on that particular topic again.

Sighing, he sank forward on the desk, resting his chin on his folded arms. It didn't take long before he was struggling to keep his eyes open, fighting the lull of sleep with all his might. The droning voice of McGonagall going on and on did nothing to help, and soon enough Harry found himself to be on the brink of sleep, the noises surrounding him becoming nothing more than an indistinct buzz. And, before he knew it, he was out like a light.

He must have been asleep for at least 20 minutes when he woke from the sound of someone loudly clearing their throat. Dazedly, green eyes opened in order to take in the person who had dared to intrude on his much needed sleep, completely forgetting that he had, in fact, fallen asleep during class.

"It delights me to see the interest you show in this subject, Mr. Potter. Staying behind when all the others have already left. I have never before witnessed such...enthusiasm."

Harry winced, straightening up at the sight of McGonagall, once again, standing before him with a stern, yet concerned frown. Frantically, he began gathering his supplies, roughly stuffing books into his bag and barely managing to avoid crushing his quill in the hasty process. All the while, he was silently cursing Hermione and Ron for leaving him there.

"It has come to my attention," McGonagall began when it became obvious that Harry would not respond, "that lately you have been very distracted, that there have been several instances where you have fallen asleep in the middle of your classes. What with your drastic change in attention I feel obligated to ask, is there something you would like to talk to me about? Is there something bothering you?"

Startled, Harry stopped his packing; gently placing the parchment he'd been holding onto his desk before standing up and facing his Professor. He hadn't exactly been subtle in hiding his exhaustion, but he hadn't thought it to be so obvious as to encourage his Head of House to intervene. Harry swallowed; a useless attempt at defeating the lump that was steadily growing in his throat.

"It's nothing, really, I'm fine. Just didn't get enough sleep last night, that's all."

A finely shaped eyebrow rose as McGonagall hummed, "Alright, then it is time for you to go on to your next class. Remember, detention next Saturday at 8 o'clock and I do believe the Headmaster will be free to receive you after dinner this evening."

And with that she handed him a small piece of parchment, waved her wand sending his things flying into his bag and promptly sent him on his way.

The day went by in a blur of lectures and schoolwork, and soon enough Harry found himself seated in the Great Hall staring at an empty plate, waiting for dinner to be over and done with. He had no taste for food, having barely managed to eat the small amount of fruit he had previously piled on his plate. The buzz of happy voices that usually filled the Great Hall grated on him. What had started out as a slight headache had grown to new heights, or rather, it had grown into a large hammer constantly slamming into his skull.

Luckily, Ron and Hermione seemed to have sensed his mood, opting to leave him alone, only sending him an occasional worried glance. Leaning forward he placed his elbows on the table, cupping his chin with his right hand. Green eyes, curtained by an array of dark lashes, shifted to take in the Head table, focusing in on the dark shadow, better known as Severus Snape, at the end of the table. The potions master was—as usual—observing the Great Hall and the students filling it with a sharp gaze, not missing a single detail, it seemed. And all the while an annoyed scowl covered his face as Professor Trelawney, oblivious to the fact that her presence was not wanted nor appreciated, chattered his ear off.

Impossibly dark eyes connected with his own, nearly drowning him in their depth and intensity, startling him to such a degree that he ceased breathing for a short moment. Snape glared at him; easily reading the slight amusement that shone in Harry's eyes, silently warning him of the consequences should he dare to mock him. Harry smirked, barely able to hold back his laughter as the potions master's glare turned lethal.

Strangely enough, this small exchange seemed to lighten his mood, chasing away the dark cloud of gloom that had been hovering above him. Somehow, his encounters with Snape always seemed to result in something similar to that. In one way or another, the Slytherin always seemed to help—even if he didn't actually mean to.

A warm hand settling on his shoulder drew his attention from the agitated potions master. Ron stood behind him, a tiny smile tugging at his lips as he nodded towards the exit. "Hermione and I'll be going now, come find us when you're done talking to Dumbledore, would you?"

"Yeah, sure," he agreed, and added, as Ron turned to lead Hermione away, "don't do anything I wouldn't do now, kids!"

His rolling laughter echoed through the Great Hall as Ron turned beet red and sputtered, while Hermione sent him a wicked wink.

* * *

"Would you like a lemon drop, my boy?" Dumbledore offered, gesturing towards an ornately decorated crystal candy dish.

"No thank you, Professor." Harry replied, shifting in his seat in an attempt at finding a more comfortable position. Dumbledore couldn't claim to have the most comfortable of chairs in his office.

"Really?" The Headmaster questioned, as if surprised that anyone could resist the temptation of the sour candy, before smiling merrily. "Oh well, all the more for me then. Though, you wouldn't mind a cup of tea, I suspect?"

He smiled, "Tea would be nice, thank you."

As soon as the words left his mouth a tea set appeared on the Headmaster's desk. Humming to himself Dumbledore began the task of pouring the tea, adding sugar and milk as instructed by Harry. Silently, he handed Harry his cup when it was ready and—after having prepared his own cup—vanished the tea set.

"Now then," The bearded man said as he leaned backward, folding his hands together and resting them on his stomach as he looked over the brim of his glasses and straight into Harry's eyes, "What's this I hear about you falling asleep in your classes, Harry? Professor McGonagall sounded quite worried when she came to me."

"I've been having some trouble sleeping." He wet his lips and took a small sip of tea, hoping it would serve to calm him down.

"Is there a particular reason as to why that is?"

For a split second—when his gaze connected with Dumbledore's earnest blue eyes, to be more specific—he actually considered opening up and telling the old man everything. And, when thinking back on it, that would probably have been the wise thing to do. As it was though, Harry merely plastered a smile on his face and replied with an unconcerned air, "Oh no, I suspect it's nothing. I'm simply thinking too much, my mind refuses to shut down when I go to bed, something's always flying about up there."

The Headmaster seemed to scrutinize him for a moment, his blue eyes narrowing, as if he somehow knew that Harry wasn't being entirely truthful. Harry's fingernails carved half-moons into the flesh of his palms as he fought not to cave in, admit that he had lied and reveal to Dumbledore all the burdens that had weighed down his shoulders these last few weeks.

"Yes..." Dumbledore said, finally cutting through the tense silence that had settled in the room, "The mind can be quite difficult to control. I myself had some trouble with it in my younger years, but then I discovered meditation. You should try it Harry. Worked wonders for me."

Harry breathed out in relief; for a moment there he could've sworn that Dumbledore would press for more. He usually did in situations such as this.

"And," the old man added before Harry had the mind to reply, "I always find a cup of hot chamomile tea in the evening to be a miracle worker. It knocks you out within minutes. And of course, you could always ask dear Poppy for some remedy, she would be delighted to help, I'm sure. I rather think you are a favourite of hers, Harry."

Harry shuddered, the prospect of going to the nurse for help more terrifying to him than anything in the world. No, he wouldn't go there and subjugate himself to the torture that was her medicine. Not unless he was within an inch of his life and no other option was available. By the merry twinkle shining fiercely in Dumbledore's eyes, he knew this very well.

"Oh no, Professor, I'm sure that wasting Madam Pomfrey's precious time won't be necessary, some meditation and tea will certainly do the trick."

"If you are certain, Harry..." His voice dragged on as if to express his doubt.

With a decisive nod Harry effectively laid the topic to rest.

He stayed just long enough to finish his tea, exchange a few pleasantries and not seem as if he would rather be somewhere else. Keeping up a polite—if slightly stiff—appearance and showing just enough interest in the Headmaster's words so as not to be rude. If Dumbledore thought Harry's sudden change of manner odd, he refrained from calling him out on it, cheerfully chattering on about the bag of lemon drops that had mysteriously disappeared no later than the day before. Having reassured Dumbledore that should he ever see said bag of candy he would immediately come to him, Harry exited the office—absolutely certain that his act had been bought.

It had not.

Reclining in his chair, Albus watched as the door closed with a quiet click. It was clear to him now, that Minerva's concern had not been unfounded. There was something different about Harry, something new— and whether that something was good or bad, Albus had yet to decide. Though, the fact still remained that Harry had yet to properly deal with it, leading to his sleepless nights and poor appetite—oh yes, the Headmaster had taken a note of the small amount of food that managed to worm its way onto Harry's plate at each meal.

"Would you keep an eye on him for me, my friend?" he questioned as he reached up to scratch Fawkes on his head, smiling when the phoenix shivered in pleasure.

A sweet, affirmative coo was the response delivered before Fawkes stretched out his magnificent wings and took to the air, leaving in his wake a warm breeze.

Albus could do nothing about Harry's reluctance to confide in him, but he could damned well make sure that no further harm would befall the young man.

* * *

Harry had not gone to find Hermione and Ron as promised, but had instead taken to wandering in the hallways. There was still an hour until curfew, and as he was quite certain that the dormitory was occupied by his two love struck friends, he thought it best to stay clear of it until then. Who knew what horrors he could potentially walk in on? Voldemort wouldn't be the only one haunting his dreams at night, that's for sure. He didn't know if he could quite recover from seeing his friends going at it.

It didn't take long before he reached the school library. As always his feet had—in his absentmindedness—carried him through the halls without his consent, surprisingly enough without a single stumble or fall. Figuring he had nothing better to do, Harry pushed the doors open and set foot within the vast room.

The sharp glare of Madam Pince immediately latched onto him, threatening to rip his very soul out should he do anything to compromise the books and the absolute silence that she seemed to think necessary. With a reassuring smile that looked more like a grimace Harry walked past her, all too aware of her hawk-like gaze. Slowly, he made his way towards the back of the library and the group of armchairs he knew was there, waving as he passed a couple of Ravenclaws. A couple of minutes passed and he was finally seated in one of the cushy armchairs, safely hidden from Madam Pince's disapproving eyes.

Leaning back he shifted in search of a more comfortable position, lifting his legs and folding them underneath him before summoning a blanket and releasing a relieved sigh. This was the most quietness he had experienced in days and it was heaven. But as they usually do, all good things must come to an end and they did so in the form of one simple sentence.

"Fancy seeing you here." The root to most of his problems had appeared.

Harry snorted, burrowing further into the softness of the chair, far too comfortable to relinquish his seat in order to face his company. And at the sound of rustling clothes he realized it hadn't been necessary in the first place, Malfoy seemed to have taken Harry's lack of response as an invitation to sit down anyway.

"Are you cold?" the blond questioned, eyeing Harry's blanket covered form.

"Not really, no," Harry finally replied, cocking his head to the right in order to look at the Slytherin. He had been expecting harsh, mocking words, not an inquiry as to his well being. It was odd, to say the least.

"Are you sure? I could always warm you up, you know." A sly smirk spread across Malfoy's face as a blond eyebrow quirked up suggestively.

Harry laughed, "Has that line ever worked? Because honestly, I can't really imagine why it would."

"It made you laugh, didn't it?"

"Yeah, but I'm afraid that making me laugh isn't the most difficult of tasks in this world. If your intention was to impress me with your wit I'm afraid you've failed."

"Then, what will impress you?" Malfoy leaned forward.

"Being left alone would do, I suppose." He mused and, despite himself, sent the blond an amused smile.

"Ah, chase away the Weasel and the Mu-Granger, got it."

Green eyes narrowed, all too aware of the insult that had nearly escaped Malfoy's mouth. Though, the fact that the Slytherin had even bothered to correct himself said a lot. And so, where Harry usually would have started a fight and stormed away, he stayed seated while forcing back the sharp comment that lingered on the tip of his tongue.

"Was there something in particular you wanted?" Harry questioned instead.

"No, not really," the blond flippantly replied, "just making sure that you're not about to off yourself before you've fulfilled your end of the deal, is all."

"Off myself? What makes you think I'd do that?"

"You've been walking around like a bloody corpse. I find myself to be concerned."

It was unexpected. The very last thing he'd thought Malfoy would've brought up. The mere notion that the Slytherin had actually bothered to notice Harry's state of mind was less than likely and the fact that he had confronted him about it too was more than unbelievable.

"Concerned? You?" Harry laughed in disbelief. He rose from his seat and banished his blanket with a swift wave of his wand. "You're one of the reasons why I'm—as you so aptly put it—walking around like a corpse in the first place!"

"Look," Malfoy began, abandoning his own seat in order to invade Harry's personal space, "I didn't ask for a kiss from you to torture you."

"Then why did you? What could've possibly gone through your mind to make you think that blackmailing a kiss out of someone _wouldn't _affect them in a bad manner?" His entire body shook, torn between attacking and running.

"You know what," Harry added before the blond could reply, "it doesn't matter. Tomorrow I'll give you your kiss and then we can finally be done with it." He made to leave, ignoring the startled look on Malfoy's face.

"Wait!" And all of a sudden Harry found himself pushed up against a bookshelf, held there by the Slytherin's strong body. Shocked, green eyes connected with determined grey and for a moment the world stopped moving. His chest rose rapidly, heaving for breath as Malfoy came closer and closer, his eyes fixed on Harry's lips. He was about to kiss him, he realized.

_Malfoy was about to kiss him!_

_**To Be Continued**  
_


	9. The real deal

**Title: **With The Drop Of A Fork

**Author: **CrimsonSnowflake

**Disclaimer: **_ Harry Potter belongs to J.K Rowling, all the copyrights associated with Harry Potter belongs to her. Only the ideas contained within this story is the property of the author. No profit is being made by the writer of this story._**  
**

**A/N:** It's amazing how much a change of scenery can do, I'm currently on winter break and decided that I would go visit my grandparents in Hell, yes there actually is a place called hell (which actually means luck in norwegian) here in Norway, you can google it if you want. The peace and quiet I got to experience there really got me going and it didn't take long before I had a chapter finished.

Anyway, I hope everyone of you enjoys this, and I would be really happy if you could take the time to comment on it and tell me how you felt about some of the scenes that'll occur in this chapter. I'll make sure to remind you of it at the bottom of this page. ;)

Happy reading!

* * *

_"I keep the subject of my inquiry constantly before me, and wait until the first dawning opens gradually, by little and little, into a full and clear light." - _Isaac Newton, 1642-1727

* * *

**Chapter 8:**

**The Real Deal  
**

There was nothing, absolutely nothing, which could have prepared him for the sensations that exploded in his body the moment Malfoy's lips connected with his own. His entire being shivered, unable to hold still as sparks of pleasure teased up and down his spine. The way those firm, yet soft lips moved against his, the slightest hint of a tongue peeking out to trace Harry's lower lip and the warm feel of Malfoy's body enveloping him. Harry was not at all experienced in the kissing department and his one and only encounter with this art had been a complete and utter failure—much too wet and completely ruined by Cho Chang's tears. _This _was how a kiss was supposed to be; this heat, this urge to be consumed and consume, and the struggle to keep from voicing his pleasure.

Who would've thought that Draco Malfoy—of all people—could affect him to such a degree?

Harry drew back gasping as he unsuccessfully attempted to control his trembling body. His hands—which had somehow managed to worm their way up to Malfoy's shoulder—clutched the blond's shirt tightly, wrinkling the soft material and tightening whenever the Slytherin's warm breath washed over his lips. Dazed green eyes focused in on the firm lips that had brought him such pleasure, and against his better judgement he made a request that would be regretted for a long time.

"Again," he whispered, snaking his hands to the back of Malfoy's neck, gently pushing down on it until the other obliged. Lips were on lips, tongues were gently caressing and once again that mind boggling pleasure rushed through his body.

Minutes passed and they continued to kiss until the sharp sound of footsteps echoed through the air, viciously cutting through the delightful bliss he found himself in. With a harsh intake of breath, he pushed away from the Slytherin and quickly wiped his lips in a useless attempt at making them appear less kissed. Grey eyes found his and for a moment they both stood there, waiting anxiously and hoping against hope that they would not be discovered. Or at least, Harry did. Malfoy seemed—in the Gryffindor's opinion—far too smug.

The footsteps came closer, gradually slowing down and Harry literally stopped breathing. Any moment now someone would come round the corner and find them, they would see the flushed Harry and the smug Malfoy and would immediately connect the dots. Against his will, Harry caught himself in turning to his companion for a solution. And—as to be expected from a Slytherin of such calibre—Malfoy did not disappoint, immediately gesturing for Harry to come closer.

It was stupid of him, ridiculously so, but he obeyed. As soon as he was within arm's reach, Malfoy took a hold of him and pushed him up against a bookshelf, shielding him from view with his body before whispering, "Play along."

Once again Harry found himself on the end of those heavenly lips and that delicious tongue; though this time he couldn't seem to find the same enjoyment in them. He was far too occupied by listening to the footsteps that were practically on them. Sure enough, only a couple of seconds passed before a voice spoke to them.

"So this is where you've been hiding out, Draco." Blaise Zabini, as smooth as ever, drawled. "Found yourself a friend as well, I see. Now who could that be, I wonder? Could it be the real deal, or is it—as always—a look-a-like?"

"Shut your trap, Blaise." Malfoy snarled, leaving Harry to take two threatening steps towards his fellow Slytherin.

"So it _is _the real deal." Zabini's dark eyes gleamed in a most triumphant way as they roamed up and down Harry's frame and despite his friend's aggressive stance moved a little closer. "My, my, my Draco, when were you planning on sharing this?"

"I said shut it!"

Harry stood by, observing the unusual scene before him; not at all aware of what exactly it was that was going on. It was all too obvious to him that there was a big, pink elephant dancing in the room that everyone but he could see.

"Maybe I should leave," Harry murmured, his voice hushed, quietly drawing their attention to him when he pushed away from the tall shelf.

"Oh no!" Zabini said before Malfoy had any chance to voice his opinion. "Stay! I would love to hear how this came to be."

"Blaise, if you do not shut your mouth I swear I will sick Bullstrode on you." Malfoy hissed before turning to Harry, his harsh expression melting from his face. "We will talk about this later. And just so you know, our deal still stands."

"I'm sure we will," he said, deliberately ignoring the comment about their deal. He would honour their agreement, but he would be damned before he agreed to talk about the big,_ big_ mistake that had occurred not only minutes ago. Without further ado he left them, ignoring the smirk Zabini sent him when he walked by.

He barely caught Malfoy's quietly whispered 'goodnight'.

It did not take him long to reach the Gryffindor tower, as he climbed the stairs in long, leaping steps. The common room was, strangely enough, completely deserted and Harry did not find the thought of his bed a temptation. He walked towards the large, plush couch stationed before the common room's only fireplace and seated himself there. Hopefully his friends would be asleep by the time he went to bed. He'd interacted with far too many tiresome people today.

The fire popped, drawing his attention to it. It wasn't much more than glowing embers and a languid stream of smoke rising up into the chimney. It was obvious that it had been some time since anyone had deigned to feed it with a log of wood or two. Harry did not find the need to either.

Far too many things had happened in a short amount of time, he mused. So many things, in fact, that he was not able to process it all. His mind was overloaded with thoughts and the very thing that stood at the forefront was Zabini's curious words. _The real deal _and _a look-a-like_. It struck him as an odd thing to say when faced with such a sight as the two had made, and the fact that Malfoy had reacted so very strongly to it as well...

No! He shook his head and jumped up from the couch as if it was poisonous. It would not do to linger on it now; his mind was far too muddled by the recent occurrences to contemplate them just yet. His bed was becoming more and more tempting. He needed a distraction from his thoughts, sleep would, most likely, be the most efficient.

A chorus of snores greeted him the moment he opened the door to the dormitory. And he found the noise to be a comforting normality in the blur of unusual events that he had been through this evening. Harry wasted no time in moving towards the bathroom and readying himself for bed. It took him no more than ten minutes to have brushed his teeth, washed his face and dressed himself in his nightwear—a incredibly comfortable, striped pyjamas bottoms and an old, worn t-shirt. He had never liked sleeping without clothes, especially back at the Dursley's. The bed linens there were always rough and itchy, scratching at his bare skin whenever he moved and despite the fact that the ones at Hogwarts were as soft as can be; he had never been able to rid himself of the habit.

He fell asleep as soon as his head connected with his pillow, lulled into the soothing darkness by the melodious sound of his room mates' snoring.

Once again, sleep brought nightmares with it.

* * *

The morning dawned, and Harry found himself—against all odds—waking with the sun. The night had not been kind to him and he was absolutely exhausted. His eyes were heavy, threatening to fall closed at any moment, his neck ached—as he had slept with it in an awkward position—and his head was absolutely pounding. Harry blamed it all on the low-life that was Voldemort.

Voldemort's continued presence in his dreams was seriously beginning to bother him. Torture, threats, delusional ideas that Malfoy was stealing Harry from him and an alarming increase of possessiveness had become regular occurrences. He could handle them, somewhat at least. What he really disturbed by was the fact that he couldn't figure out if they were, indeed, dreams or if Voldemort was actually sending him a message.

With a grimace he pushed himself up in a sitting position, he almost regretted not having told Dumbledore about his nightmares now. The Headmaster could at least have provided him with some Dreamless Sleep from Madam Pomfrey without Harry having to answer to the school nurse. Now—if he wished to indulge in such luxury—he would have to face her wrath to get some. And to be honest, he would rather suffer his nightmares than have to deal with that.

Harry jumped out of bed, intent on getting dressed and going down to breakfast as early as possible, though for a moment he wondered if it wouldn't be better just to drop the meal altogether. He had no trouble admitting that it was mostly due to his desire of avoiding the Slytherin house. There was no doubt in his mind that the entire house of snakes would know about what had occurred between him and Malfoy by now, if not from the blond's own mouth then at least from that of Zabini.

There was no way the Slytherin would let the opportunity of humiliating him escape his grasp, he was certain.

The Great Hall was empty when he arrived though, despite this the long tables were abounding with food and a delicious scent had wafted into his nose the moment he had pushed open the doors. Wrapping his cloak tighter around himself, he walked towards the Gryffindor table and seated himself on the wooden bench. He would not be alone for long, he reckoned, Hermione would most likely be joining him soon.

He opted to finishing his meal as soon as possible, loading his plate with toast and smearing said toast with strawberry jam. Harry poured himself a glass of pumpkin juice, lightly sipping at it as he took a small bite out of his meal. The sweetness of the jam exploded most deliciously on his tongue just as Hermione sat down beside him with a heavy thump.

"Where'd you get to last night?" She questioned, her voice hushed so the few students that had begun pouring in couldn't hear her.

"Good morning to you too," Harry replied, taking another bite out of his breakfast. "Have a good night's sleep, did you?"

"Very good, thank you. Now answer my question." Hermione was to the point, as always.

"I went to the library."

"The library?" An inquisitive eyebrow rose, "What on earth were you doing in the library so late at night?"

He sipped at his pumpkin juice, "I didn't find the thought of walking in on you and Ron going at it particularly tempting, so I went to the library."

"Oh..." She blushed, turning away from him and busying herself with loading her plate with food.

Harry smirked. It never failed. Mention her relationship with Ron and whatever dirty acts they might be up to and she would become as quiet as a mouse. It was a most efficient way of getting away from her thorough inquisitions without her realizing it. She would now, most likely, be so caught up in reigning in her flush that she would completely forget questioning him any further on the subject. Harry was off the hook.

"So," she began, finally having regained her composure, "How did your meeting with Professor Dumbledore go?"

"I survived, didn't I?" Harry sent her a smile.

"Be serious, would you?" She laughed, spearing a piece of bacon with her fork.

"It went fine," he replied, "he asked the usual questions, I gave the usual answers."

Hermione's previous amusement disappeared as she looked up from her plate with a frown; her concerned eyes scanned his frame, taking in the many symptoms of exhaustion that littered his body. She knew perfectly well what his usual answers were, and it was all too obvious that she disagreed with him giving them. Though, she said nothing of it. Instead, she moved on to a safer subject, that of Ron's laziness. It bothered her that he had yet to rise from bed she said, and without any prompting from Harry she launched in on a long speech on the subject.

Harry, with an occasional comment to appease his friend, slowly finished his breakfast, confident that he still had some time before the Slytherins showed up. In the middle of a long drink of juice he was, unfortunately, proven horribly wrong in the form of a light tap on his shoulder.

Hermione immediately stopped speaking, her eyes widening in shock.

"Would you take a walk with me, Potter?" As if last night had not been enough Blaise Zabini once again decided to gift him with his presence.

"Can't it wait, I'm afraid I haven't had the time to finish my breakfast yet." He gestured to his half-eaten toast.

"No, I would so much like to get you to myself before a certain someone arrives to spoil it all." The Slytherin's words sounded far too suggestive for his liking, and while he knew that there was nothing behind it, everyone around them would think otherwise. So, in order to stop Zabini from spouting any more misleading words, he pushed away from the table and climbed to his feet. Levelling Zabini with an apathetic stare he gestured for him to take the lead, sending a reassuring smile in Hermione's direction as he moved to follow the Slytherin.

He knew he should have dropped breakfast this morning.

The journey down to the Black Lake was spent in silence, neither party inclined on breaking it just yet. They passed a couple of students along the way, Gryffindors, Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws, but, strangely enough, no Slytherins. It was strange, as they were usually up and about before the Gryffindors.

"You know," his companion began when they reached the dark water's shores, "I never thought he would actually do it. He's been talking about it for years, of course, dating look-a-likes and such, but he's never actually done anything about it."

Harry kept quiet, too confused about the others words to comment on them.

Zabini did not mind. "Imagine my surprise when he, at the beginning of this semester, declared that you were not to be touched. Naturally, we've always known that you were off limits, perhaps even before he knew it, but he has never really stated it. And then I walk in on the unthinkable. Your little kiss."

The Slytherin stopped, turning to look at him with a knowing glance. "Do you realize the severity of what is going on here, Potter? Because I have a feeling that you don't."

"Would you enlighten me, then?"

"Draco has, against all odds, decided to court you."

Harry laughed. "Court me? No, you have it all wrong. What he's been doing is blackmailing me into kissing him in the middle of the Great Hall."

"Didn't say he was being smart about it, now did I?" Zabini smirked.

"Why are you telling me this in the first place?"

"Well Draco's certainly not about to tell you, is he? I just thought you should know."

"Out of the goodness of your heart, is it?" Harry drawled, screwing up his nose as the first of many snowflakes landed on it.

"Something like that, yes," He replied.

They walked on in silence for a while, before something suddenly occurred to Harry. "If what you're saying is true, why haven't you dissuaded him?"

"Oh believe me, if I thought I could change his mind I already would have. However, Draco is notoriously stubborn. Nothing I say will stop him from achieving something he wants. It lies in the family, I suppose." This didn't seem to bother the Slytherin at all; in fact it was delivered with such nonchalance that he might as well have been discussing the weather.

"Then...you want _me_ to do something about it? You want me to stop him from courting me?" Harry questioned, not entirely sure where Zabini was headed with this conversation.

"Oh no. He would become insufferable should you do that. I'm not saying you should do anything, really. I just thought you should know how serious he is about this. As I said, you didn't seem all too aware of this yesterday." It seemed to Harry that the only point of this conversation was for Zabini to confuse him. If it was, he had done so brilliantly.

"Well," he continued before Harry had any chance of questioning him further, "I've immensely enjoyed this conversation, I must say. I can't wait for a repeat of it."

Zabini grabbed a hold of his hand, bowed down like a gentleman and kissed it while throwing him a playful wink. "Until then."

Harry was left to contemplate the meaning of their meeting.

Later that day, Harry—as he had done so many times before—escaped his friends in favour of some solitude. His day had been spent dedicated to doing schoolwork and diligently avoiding Hermione's questioning glances. This, along with his mind constantly churning to solve the mystery of his conversation with Zabini from that morning, had left him exhausted. And so, due to the insistent growling coming from his stomach, he was headed towards the kitchens.

When he reached the large painting covering the entrance, he leaned forward and gently tickled the pear, smiling in satisfaction as a high-pitched giggle floated into the air and the painting swung open. The room was bustling with life—as always. House elves ran to and fro, carrying pots, pans and various foods. They had to be incredibly busy and immersed in their tasks as it took them unusually long to discover their visitor. When they did, however, a wave of small creatures immediately ran towards him, offering him all they could in their high, almost grating, voices.

"No! No!" A particularly high-pitched voice rose above them all, "Leave Mr. Harry Potter sir alone! He does not want anything from _you_!"

Dobby, in all his glory, pushed through the sea of elves, elbowing and glaring viciously at his kin while at the same time managing to send several beaming smiles in Harry's direction. The peculiar little creature was covered, from top to toe, in Hermione's knitted creations. An odd sight, to be sure.

"What can Dobby be doing for Mr. Harry Potter sir?" The house elf asked when he finally reached Harry, blocking all attempts the others made at getting closer to the young wizard.

"Some food would be nice, Dobby." It had always unnerved him how willing to please Dobby became when it came to him. Nothing was good enough, it seemed.

"Oh yes, yes!" Dobby rocked back and forth on his heels, a large grin covering his face. "What would Mr. Harry Potter sir like?"

"A sandwich is fine." He moved towards the only tabled in the room, taking a seat and watching as things went back to normal and the house elves returned to their tasks, ignoring his presence save for a couple of glances in his direction.

Only a couple of minutes had passed before Dobby showed up, placing a plate with a most delicious looking sandwich before him. Cheese, mayonnaise and cooked ham, just as Harry liked it. Dobby lingered for a moment, eager to start up a conversation with him, but somehow the elf must have sensed that Harry had a lot on his mind for he closed his mouth and returned to his previous task with a small smile. Harry was once again left to figure out his own thoughts.

A lot could be said about the strange house elf, but he was certainly perceptive.

**TBC**

Just reminding you all to give me your opinion on this chapter, it would be very much appreciated! :D


	10. Diving in head first

**Title: **With The Drop Of A Fork

**Author: **CrimsonSnowflake

**Disclaimer: **_Harry Potter belongs to J.K Rowling, all the copyrights associated with Harry Potter belongs to her. Only the ideas contained within this story is the property of the author. No profit is being made by the writer of this story._******  
**

**A/N: **I have some bad news for you guys! Here in Norway we have something called "russefeiring", basically it's 17 days of partying to celebrate the fact that we are finally done with 13 years of school. Because I'm in the middle of this celebration I won't be dedicating much time to writing so I can guarantee that the next chapter won't be written during May. After that I have all my exams so most likely I'll be very busy during June as well. That means that there is a possibility that I won't be posting the next chapter until July is here... I hope you will all be patient with me and accept that I have a life outside of writing.

Other than that, enjoy the new chapter! :D

* * *

_"You know you're in love when you can't fall asleep because reality is finally better than your dreams." - Dr. Seuss_

* * *

**Chapter: 9**

**Diving In Head First  
**

It took Harry approximately two days of contemplation and careful observation to realize that Zabini—and Hermione for that matter—had, to his horror and disbelief, been absolutely correct. Malfoy was, in fact, courting him, however subtle he was trying being about it. And Harry cursed himself for being so dense and denying what had been so obvious to everyone but himself. When had he become so oblivious to his surroundings? Harry had never been exceptionally good at reading other people; he had never had the ability to see what they were thinking with just one glance. He had, however, known enough to see when something unusual—in this case, Malfoy's pursue of a romantic relationship—was going on.

Though how he had missed the all too obvious signs was not the important thing here. No, the most crucial thing now was to figure out what he was going to do about it. Naturally, he could not do nothing and hope for the problem to go away. Malfoy was, as Zabini had been so kind as to inform him, stubborn and there was no way he would give up and leave Harry alone just because his efforts gained no response. So some sort of action would have to be taken. Whether that action was to encourage or discourage the Slytherin Harry had yet to decide.

He would have to have another chat with Zabini, he concluded. Who better to consult with on dealing with a Slytherin than a Slytherin himself? But that would have to wait. At the moment he had far more important things to focus on. Not ruining the potion simmering before him in order to avoid Snape's shortening temper being one of them. Several of his classmates had already fallen victim to the Professor's sharp tongue and one had even been so unfortunate as to have experienced such a scare from said tongue that he tripped and knocked over his cauldron, becoming drenched in his own potion and resulting in rather painful looking boils all over his body. Needless to say, today was not the day for potions making.

Harry stirred four times counter-clockwise before hurriedly adding the chopped belladonna, smiling in satisfaction when the potion sizzled and turned a dark green colour, just as it was supposed to do. Now all that was left was for the potion to simmer for a couple of days. After having gained a reluctant approval from Snape, Harry brought his cauldron into the storage room, finding a suitable shelf to place it on before gently lowering it down. With a small wave of his wand and a whispered spell Harry drew up a shield around the cauldron, watching as a silvery screen settled right above the potion's surface. Just to make sure that the shield was, indeed, working, Harry fished out a piece of parchment and dropped it into the cauldron. Before a second had passed the small piece of paper burst into flames and there was nothing left but ashes in its wake.

Secure in the knowledge that it would be damned difficult to tamper with his potion, Harry made his way into the classroom again with the intention of gathering his things and escaping the room as unnoticed by his classmates as possible. Not a very difficult thing to manage considering the fact that the whole room's attention was fixed on the task of not ruining their potions.

"Good luck," he whispered as he passed a particularly harassed looking Neville, squeezing his shoulder in a reassuring manner.

A quiet whimper was his only response. Harry had expected nothing less. While Neville's confidence had risen over the last few years, forming him into a rather capable young man, there was no denying that whenever he was faced with Snape he always reverted into the little boy Harry had known in his first year. It was a shame; really, Neville would have been very accomplished in potions if he'd only learn how to deal with Snape's lethal tongue.

Sending one last worried look in Neville's direction, Harry swept out of the room before Snape could turn his temper on him for loitering. The fresh air that greeted him when he stepped out of the door was heaven compared to the fumes that lingered in the potions classroom and Harry drew a deep breath before wandering down the hallway, intent on killing some time before finding Zabini.

* * *

"Hypothetically," Harry began as he took a seat beside Zabini, disturbing the Slytherin from his reading, "If I were to believe you when you said Malfoy wants to court me, what is, in your opinion, the best way to handle it?"

Blaise looked up from his book, calmly marking his page before putting it down. An amused smirk appeared on his face as he mockingly commented, "You don't have much experience when it comes to these types of things, do you, Potter?"

"Would you just tell me already?" He glared at the other, "I'm not particularly in the mood to deal with your vagueness today, Zabini."

"Of course," the Slytherin conceded, "I assume you want the option that doesn't require you to flee the country, so the only option you have, really, is to allow Draco to continue his attempts—lame as they may be—to court you and see if you like it or not. In other words, go on dates with him, act like a couple would and then, if you like it you stay, if you don't you break up with him."

"You want me to date him?" Harry questioned, struggling to keep the disbelief from showing.

"Well, that's your only option. As I've already told you, Draco is a very persistent fellow and nothing short of you fleeing the country will make him give up."

"And when I break up with him, then what? How can you be sure he'll back off?"

"What's to say he'll have to back off? You never know, Potter, maybe the Malfoy charm will get to you." And for a moment the smirk made way for a small genuine smile. "He's not as bad as you think he is, in fact, I have a feeling you'll find he is very easy to love."

Harry sighed, leaning forward and resting his elbows on the table before burying his face in his hands. "That's the only option, huh..."

In a completely uncharacteristic move, the Slytherin laid a comforting hand on Harry's shoulder, squeezing it gently in reassurance. "Don't worry; I'm sure it won't be bad. Draco is well known for taking care of what he thinks of as his."

"Was that supposed to be comforting?" Harry laughed dryly, "I don't particularly like being thought of as someone's property, you know."

"Whether you like it or not, you'll be well taken care of," Zabini stated before clearing his throat and rising from his seat, "now, if there was nothing else, I have somewhere to be."

Harry sent him a small, weak smile. "No, that was all. Thank you for your help, it was most appreciated."

The Slytherin held out his hand, waiting patiently as Harry hesitantly reached out with his own. Long, slender fingers closed around Harry's smaller hand as Zabini bent down and—as he always seemed to do when he said goodbye—placed a gentle kiss on the back of it. Blushing, the Gryffindor retracted his appendage as soon as Zabini loosened his grip. He would never get used to the gentlemanly manner in which the Slytherin chose to act. And for a moment he couldn't help but to wonder if that's how Malfoy would be acting when Harry agreed to the courtship. If so, Harry would be walking around with a permanent blush on his face.

"Until later then," Zabini murmured before turning around and leaving the library.

Harry sighed, leaning back in his chair while closing his eyes and gently massaging his temples. He could feel a headache coming on. It made sense, what Zabini had said. The most reasonable thing to do was to explore a potential relationship with Malfoy—just as he would have had it not been for their...colourful past. He would have to give the blonde a fair chance, Harry concluded. A fair chance that would have to begin with some sort of token or, to be more specific, a kiss in the middle of the Great Hall. Just as he had promised when they'd made their deal.

Rolling his neck, Harry winced when a sharp pain shot through him, a crick was beginning to form. The stress was getting to him, showing both physically as well as mentally. His surrender—in a manner of speaking—couldn't have come at a better time, he supposed. It would, at the very least, give him some leeway to recuperate and get himself back on track. Who knew, maybe Malfoy _would_ be the key to his happiness, however unlikely it was.

Rising from his seat, Harry followed in Zabini's footsteps and quietly left the library, heading for the Gryffindor common room for a short nap before dinner. Some sleep would do him good, he mused when he reached the moving staircases. It didn't take long before he reached the portrait of the Fat Lady and with a quietly uttered password; he gained access to the common room.

As classes were still in session, there were few people lounging about in the room, only a couple of third years having a free period. None of them took any special note of Harry's presence and, fortunately, he could easily sweep past them without any interruption.

When he finally reached his room, and consequently his bed Harry didn't bother with taking off his clothes. Instead, he merely collapsed onto the soft mattress and allowed sleep to consume him.

No more than ten minutes could have passed by before he woke with a start—his quilt having been torn off him.

"Harry!" Ron's deep voice reached his ears, "Get up, you're going to miss dinner."

Harry groaned, curling in on himself in order to preserve the warmth that had been so cruelly ripped away from him. "What are you talking about, Ron? Dinner's not for an hour."

"What are _you _talking about? Dinner began ten minutes ago. Once she realized you weren't there Hermione sent me up to get you. Now come on, get your arse in gear, my chicken is getting colder as we speak!" The tall redhead shifted, rocking on his heels in a show of impatience.

With a huff and a vicious glare in Ron's direction, Harry pushed himself off of the bed, straightening out his wrinkled clothes before gesturing for his friend to lead the way.

The Great Hall was buzzing with noise when they entered, quietly making their way towards the two open spots across from Hermione.

"How did it go?" Hermione asked the moment Harry's bum connected with the wooden bench.

"Excuse me?"

"Your potion, how did it go?"

Harry sent the girl a wry smile as he began loading his plate with food; trust Hermione to start an inquisition about schoolwork. "It went fine, we both know I'll never get an outstanding in the subject, but I'm satisfied with it."

"Yeah yeah, whatever," Ron cut in, "now, onto more serious matters! What are we going to do about the ferret? He's been staring at us ever since we got here and I swear he's planning something."

"What?" Harry looked up startled, his head immediately swinging around to look at Ron with wide eyes. He couldn't... No; Ron couldn't possibly know what had been going on these past days. He wasn't that observant, was he?

"Come on, Harry," the redhead said, almost exasperated, "You can't say that you haven't noticed how much he has been looking at you ever since that night in the dungeons. Something is going on I tell you."

"I'm sure it's nothing," Harry replied with a nervous laugh, "He's probably just trying to freak us out, right Hermione?"

"You know, Harry," She began, gently putting down her fork, "It would be much easier if you just told him."

Harry immediately plastered an innocent expression on his face, "Told him what, Hermione?"

She rolled her eyes, sending Harry a vexed glare while saying, "Well if you won't tell him, then I will. He has to know, Harry."

"Oh keep your mouth shut, would you?" he dropped his eating utensils, having completely lost his appetite, "He'll know what we're talking about by the end of dinner anyway."

"You know, my curiosity is seconds away from killing me here and if you two don't tell me what's going on you'll have my death on your hands." Ron said through a mouthful of mashed potatoes.

"Oh for Merlin's sake, fine, I'll tell you!" Harry agitatedly rose to his feet, "In fact, why don't I just show you?"

Without further ado he stormed away from the table and towards the one packed with Slytherins. Several heads turned and followed him, anticipating a fight. For what else could it be that drove Harry Potter, the golden boy of Gryffindor, into snake territory?

His body was tense as he made his way between the tables; his heart was pounding like crazy, nearly jumping out of his heart. He had to be crazy, Harry decided, to be doing what he was about to do.

Taking a deep breath, he slowed when he finally reached his destination, coming to a halt behind Malfoy. The quiet chatter that had filled the Slytherin table slowly disappeared and every eye turned to glare, scrutinize or simply observe Harry. Oddly enough, just as it had been when he'd visited their common room, none of them made a scathing comment about his presence there.

When he noticed his friends' diverted attention, Malfoy turned around, grey eyes widening slightly when they took in Harry standing there. The Gryffindor did not hesitate and immediately moved to straddle the Slytherin's lap. He laced his fingers behind Malfoy's neck and dove in, lips first, to snog the life out of him.

The blond recovered quickly, his hands moving up to settle on Harry's hips and drawing him closer to his body. Bravery growing, Harry parted his lips slightly and allowed his tongue past to swipe at Malfoy's soft bottom lip. The Slytherin immediately granted his request and opened his mouth, his own tongue coming out to take part in the play.

Harry barely registered the shocked gasps coming from the rest of the student population as he was consumed by the heated feeling of Malfoy's lips on his, his tongue curling around his own and his hands wandering and stroking along his body. It was just as delicious, if not more, this time as it had been last. And once again he found himself wondering how the Slytherin could possibly affect him so.

His lungs began protesting his activities, screaming for air and he was forced to draw back. Staring into Malfoy's grey eyes he gifted the blond with a small smile and a final quick peck on the lips before moving to get off the warm lap. He shivered when Malfoy's hands fell from his hips, deliberately sliding his fingers along Harry's thighs.

Whispers shot through the crowd like wildfire, spreading to every corner of the Great Hall and in a matter of seconds the whole room knew exactly what had just occurred. And Harry could feel his cheeks flushing. He had actually done it! He had actually walked up to Malfoy and snogged him in front of the whole school.

Suddenly, Malfoy grabbed a hold of his hand, gently tugging on it while saying, "Sit with me."

With a quick glance at the others at the table, Harry allowed himself to be dragged into the open seat beside Malfoy, ignoring the way the Slytherin immediately slid a possessive hand around his waist.

That was all Ron could handle, it seemed. In the next moment the tall Gryffindor was up from his seat, storming towards them, red in the face while yelling, "What the bloody hell is going on here?"

* * *

**TBC**


	11. Author Note

Hello, my dear, dear readers!

I am so incredibly sorry about this, but I have completely lost any sort of inspiration for this story and I feel as if I've lost my way when it comes to it. The desire to sit down and develop the plot and write the story has escaped me and I feel as if my original idea for it has completely disappeared. It really breaks my heart to say this, but because I feel as if all of you deserve more than to read a story that an author has half-heartedly written, I see no other option than to stop writing it. Since I really am fond of the story and would love to see it continued, I would be delighted if any of you would be willing to take it on. If you do, just send me a message and I will take a look at any other works you've written (I want to make sure that the story is left in capable hands) and maybe you'll be the one to take it to new heights.

It's been wonderful writing for you, and I am very thankful for the many words of encouragement I have received from you all!

Love you guys!

CrimsonSnowflake


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